Killing Voldemort Six Times
by Malquoria
Summary: Dumbledore has declared defeat in finding any of Voldemort's horcruxes. However, a chance for victory has arisen through Voldemort's actions post-Triwizard Tournament. The only disadvantage is that this chance requires Voldemort to be killed. Six times. War is upon them all. AU from the middle of The Half-Blood Prince.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.**

Summary: What the name says. Imagine Voldemort did what many including Harry considered, made his horcruxes any object or hidden so successfully that none would be able to find all of them without allowing Voldemort time to wreck havoc. I haven't read a fan fic with this idea, but with hundreds of thousands of HP fan fics, I'm sure there probably are more a few that deal with Harry dealing with Voldemort in a more direct manner than finding Horcruxes.

I'm going to go slight AU on the horcruxes. I try to answer it using the world of canon, so if all answers are perfect the great. Any niggling doubts used in the logic that makes you not 100% convinced, just chalk it up to an AU modification on how horcruxes works and move on I guess.

This story will be AU from around the time of Half-Blood-Prince. I will freely use canon situations from DH if it doesn't conflict with my story and I feel it necessary.

A reviewer once said he wished I'd given warning to another of my story's style, so I'll describe this story. It's basically war against Voldemort. Pure action and adventure basically,with some drama added in. This will be a story told from many perspectives, with characters split up and each character's view being a piece of the overall story. There may not be a central character (Harry may have the most scenes of any but not a majority).

Just a quick warning, I intend to write a war so it's not going to be clean. Do not assume any character will make out of this unscathed, if survive at all. There will be deaths, and I have no intention of having any warnings beforehand. If that isn't the sort of story you'd like to read, I've spared you the time and you may want to skip it.

**_Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature._**

* * *

**Chapter 1  
Dumbledore's Gleam of Triumph Explained at Last**

The night was not too dark, considering the nearly full moon and the countless stars scattered upon the canvas of the sky. The night, however, was deathly silent. The air was thick with anticipation, the environment still with suspense, and the surroundings under the calm before chaos. Were you to look up to the sky you may have been able to spot a slight, small, outline in the air moving towards a castle. A few owls perched on top of a tower flew off when this objected flew very close to them. With a whoosh, a broomstick flew onto the tower, and levitated a meter above the tower ground for a moment as a man hopped off. This man was rather old, with a long silver beard that descended towards his waist. He walked swiftly towards the door leading back into the castle.

Albus Dumbledore was rather frustrated, and if any of you ever knew this man, you'd know this was a very rare occurrence. He was almost never flustered, always preferring to deal with situations as serenely as he could handle. He was no deity, sure he had his moments of annoyance, but he rarely got frustrated. He always dealt with situations as they came, and figured if there was a way out of problems, a clear head would always be of better use than a frustrated mind. And if there were no ways out of a problem, being all flustered wouldn't matter a jot; no use crying over spilt ink, as they say.

So hopefully now you understand the gravity of the situation when it said that Albus Dumbledore was a good deal frustrated. He muttered to himself in quick tones, not paying any mind to the snogging students in a dark corner (the Ravenclaw's tongue being so far deep in the Slytherin's mouth, Dumbledore would've made rather funny comment to them had he been in a mood where he cared). Instead he breezed down the corridors, not noticing the slightest thing surrounding him, his thoughts consuming of his attentions he had reached the gargoyle standing outside his office in what felt to him in the blink of any eye. He mumbled the password absentmindedly and walked up the steps.

Dumbledore sat in his office, and sighed. The portraits of the prior headmasters and mistresses remained silent, knowing full well this was not a time to say a word. He opened a cabinet door and took out a flask with a dark brown liquid in it. He pulled out a glass and poured into it. He sat in his seat and facing the table, but looking at nothing in particular, he sipped his drink. He remained as such, left to his thoughts, as he both thought and drunk deeply.

How wretched a situation this was! He knew the odds were small to imagine finding them all, but not even one? Everything, everything, would have to change. The entire strategy, the usage of resources... _everything_ must change. He didn't think the public were ready for it. How could they? Dumbledore dearly wished his first plan could work, where the actions to weaken the enemy first be done under the cloak of stealth, and then... when the enemy unaware of his loss, then they'd strike him and remove him from the Earth permanently. The alternative was to bring it to the open, and the risks were immense if not near impossible.

Dumbledore drank another portion deeply. He didn't notice his hand slightly shook as the glass was raised to his lips. No twinkle could be spotted in his eyes, the skin on his face looked as worn as it ever did, lined with concern and worry. How wretched a situation this was.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"Tell him he is needed," he said.

One painting occupant went to the edge and then disappeared. None of the paintings asked. They all knew who 'he' was.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX **

"Go on Seamus!" shouted Dean, with a whoop. "Give it a go!"

Seamus was standing on a tale in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, which was filled with students who were all looking at him. He held in his hand a small vial, which had a light blue liquid inside.

"Should I?" asked Seamus, playing to the crowd. The crowd did not disappoint, with a loud "Yes!" roared back.

"Oh, for the love of God," said Hermione, who sounded annoyed save for the smile she couldn't resist. "This is insane."

"Indeed, the enviably lovely Miss Granger has pointed out," said Seamus. "But when insanity is needed, I must answer the call!"

"Will you get over yourself and do it already?!" said Ron loudly. "All this discussion is only delaying things."

"Who the bloody hell managed to get the sample?" said Ginny.

"I did!" squealed Colin Creevey, excitedly.

"There's Gryffindor brave," said Hermione, disapproving a bit, "and then there's Gryffindor reckless."

"That's why we're in this house," said Ron, nodding approvingly towards Colin. "Because none of us know the difference."

"Yeah!" shouted Dean again. "Drink, drink, drink..."

The crowd joined in now. "Drink... drink... drink..."

Seamus, chest sticking out, looked at them for one last moment, and then drank it deeply. He smacked his mouth a couple of times, clearly disliking the taste. His face then contorted and started to twist in unnatural manners. The crowd around him gasped and stared, and a few stepped back having never seen such a transformation occur before.

After a few moments, standing before them was the Transfiguration professor. Everyone stared, their respect for the real one so great they didn't know what to do. Until Dean walked behind Seamus, and gave a large slap to the back of the head. Seamus let out a cry of surprised pain and looked round at his best friend in confusion.

"Even though this doesn't really count," said Dean. "I feel like the bravest bastard to walk these halls."

The crowd roared with laughter, and everyone then went closer to observe the change much closer.

Laying on a couch far on one side of the room, watching all of this silently, lay a boy of roughly sixteen. He had a book propped open and leaning on raised leg with flexed knees, but he was watching the events there. He was a rather good looking lad, but he looked emotionless at that moment. His hair was jet black, and he wore glasses, with a small scar lay on his forehead. As ever, he avoided the crowd and tried to avoid the action, until of course he was dragged into it.

Having sat further away from the others, he was the only one to notice the painting swing open and someone enter the room. He really did want to warn the others, but there was nothing to say as the person who entered had seen what was going on immediately upon stepping foot in the common room.

"I suppose you all found this very funny," said the person dryly.

Everyone else turned quickly to the voice, which cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. A student squeaked remarkably loudly, but nobody ever found out who it was.

"While I will give credit to the performance of rather difficult magic," said McGonagall, "I have warned you time and time again the dangers of attempting such magic without the necessary direction."

The students were quiet, knowing McGonagall will be on a roll soon enough. But before she did, she looked around to find someone.

"Oh, Harry?" she said. "The Headmaster wishes to see you."

Harry hopped off his couch and made his way to the exit swiftly. He overheard his Transfiguration teacher's comments behind him as he left through the opened painting, and she was not amused.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX **

The walk towards Dumbledore's office went without a distraction, so he was left deep in his thoughts. Dumbledore and he already had a number of conversations regarding the distances Voldemort went to achieve immortality. The nature of horcruxes horrified him to his deepest core; he couldn't fathom any thinking that would lead a person in that direction. Dumbledore was scouring around the lands, looking for hints about where the horcruxes would be. When found, each would be destroyed one by one... and when all fell, then so would the Dark Lord.

Harry made his way up the staircase and entered the headmaster's circular room. He saw his headmaster seated behind the desk, looking rather weary, with a glass in his hand. Dumbledore looked up to see his favourite student walking towards him, and raised his glass.

"Drink?" he offered, kindly.

"No thanks, sir," said Harry.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Sit, sit."

Harry obeyed, and waited patiently as Dumbledore was silent. He didn't wish to push his headmaster, respecting him far too much to make a comment. After awhile, Dumbledore let out a large sigh, something Harry wasn't too familiar with which made him sit up in anticipation of something bad.

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore finally. "It seems our strategy has come to a failure."

"Which one, sir?" said Harry, who had a slight feeling what it was.

"Our main one, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Our only one."

"The horcruxes...?"

"Yes, Harry, to be succinct," said Dumbledore. "I cannot account for any of them."

"None of them?" said Harry, a trail of fear slowly spreading within him.

"Not one," said Dumbledore. "I was so sure that Voldemort would place his horcruxes in such an esteem that the locations would be able to be found using his personal history."

"And that sounded just like what he would do," said Harry.

"It seems he either had the foresight to see this, and hide them far more randomly," said Dumbledore. "Or he did what you feared and just charmed any old tin can. Either way, it makes no difference. None have the resources to scan every object imaginable to see if they're horcruxes. It's absolutely impossible. He could be hiding one in this very castle and there's no way one could just stumble upon it."

"So he's won?" said Harry, dreading to hear the answer.

"No, there's never a sure victory, Harry. Always remember that," said Dumbledore. "It goes against the nature for anyone to be undefeatable, though men have tried for millenia. There is always a way, so long as someone is willing to try it."

"But you said we can't find the horcruxes...?" said Harry, confused.

"I thought that too, Harry," said Dumbeldore. "But when I was about to concede a loss, considering that we'd have to keep defeating Voldemort again and again, each time living in relative peace for only a short period until he regained corporeal form, I realised that there was a way."

"What is the way?" said Harry.

"Not what," said Dumbledore, looking pointedly at the young man seated before him before smiling for the first time since his return to the castle. "But _whom_?"

"What, _me_?" said Harry, incredulously.

"Yes you," said Dumbledore. "I have been thinking for years on how Voldemort had managed to survive his encounter with you as a baby. Naturally, a horcrux was one of the options, but there were a few others. Nonetheless, the moment I heard he took your blood I felt this could only serve as good news."

"Good news?" said Harry in disbelief. "He can touch me now."

"Don't fall into Voldemort's thinking," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort only sees effects, but can't understand causes. He knew he couldn't touch you and sought to correct it by what was logical to him, by embracing your blood. But didn't you ever consider that if by merely touching you he was harmed, why on earth would he risk placing what harmed him within his very veins? If I told you a certain poison would kill you by merely rubbing it on your skin, would you dare drink it as a way to overcome it?"

"But nothing happened to Voldemort. He can touch me, and he hasn't been harmed by my blood," said Harry, still not understanding.

"As far as you see, Harry, as far as you can see he hasn't been harmed," said Dumbledore. "Listen, what have we discussed a horcrux can do?"

"Give immortality to a person," said Harry, without pause.

"And is this just theoretical magic, or has it occurred in history?" asked Dumbledore.

"Must've occurred in history," said Harry. "Otherwise there would be no book describing it so Tom Riddle could learn to do it."

"Then where are the wizards or witches who achieved this immortality?" said Dumbledore, his eyes gleaming.

Harry opened his mouth, but no word came out as he couldn't think of anything. He then shut his mouth.

"Of all the magical people, who do you know managed to live in an almost immortal manner?" asked Dumbledore.

"Nicolas Flamel," said Harry, after thinking for a moment.

"Someone who, I must stress, did not achieve this with such dark magic as horcruxes," said Dumbledore. "Where then, are these immortal wizards or witches? What fear would they have to hide in the shadows if they were truly immortal? Voldemort surely is not the first evil person to walk this earth. We cannot underestimate the arrogance of evil, and only evil could inspire going down the path to even attempt to make a horcrux. If there was an evil person who was immortal, he or she would not hide."

"They died, then?" said Harry.

"Logic forces us to consider no other alternative," said Dumbledore. "In all the history and stories of the past, there is one undeniable fact in the battles between light and darkness..."

"And that is...?" asked Harry.

"Darkness always loses," said Dumbledore firmly. "Maybe not immediately, maybe not without an inordinate amount of loss and damage, but as sure as you are sitting in front of me, darkness always loses in the end."

"That's comforting I guess," said Harry. "But how does that affect us now?"

"Well, because this time the Dark Lord took one step too far with his arrogance and assumed he could handle anything thrown at him by taking your blood," said Dumbledore. "Do you recall the problem of splitting one's soul more than once, Harry?"

"It makes the soul unstable," said Harry.

"More or less, in short," said Dumbledore, nodding his head. "He intended to, and we have to assume he managed, split his soul seven times. It's unbelievably unstable. It's a testament to his power and control that his experimenting didn't blow up in his face and he died on the spot due to the rupture of his soul far too many times, to the point that each piece was too small to bring him back to this world without assistance which Pettigrew provided. And then what does he do?"

"He takes my blood?" said Harry.

"He takes your blood," repeated Dumbledore, speaking slowly and placing emphasis in each word. "The one thing he knows he has to avoid, he arrogantly attempts to consume it. When I heard you mention it after the Triwizard Tournament, I felt a small amount of glee at that news. I only had suspicions at that moment, but I knew nothing good could come of it. He was a man utterly incapable to understand the depth of powers such as love; he merely thought it a challenge to overcome in the most basic of actions."

"And how does that help us?" said Harry. He still couldn't figure out where the good news was in this mess.

"In every way, young Harry," said Dumbledore. "It takes us back to the prophecy. Love is the power he knows not. The moment he takes into his own body this power he cannot comprehend, he sets in motion the next step in the prophecy."

"Which is...?" asked Harry.

"Neither can live while the other survives," said Dumbledore. "Remember, he already had Horcruxes even at that point when the prophecy was made, yet it clearly says neither of you two can live. It doesn't just single out you who does not have any immortality."

"So he can die?" said Harry.

"So he can die," said Dumbledore. "If my thinking is correct."

"I'm still not following," said Harry.

"Think about it," said Dumbledore. "His soul must be unstable being split so many times. And he puts in his veins something that harmed him, your blood. Now he, and you, think he's not being damaged as the effects are not seen nor felt, but magic is far, far, deeper than Voldemort realises. See, despite all his power and abilities, what Voldemort lacks is understanding depth. To him things are black and white, powerful or not. Even when being defeated by something he didn't understand, being love when your mother sacrificed herself, rather than resolving to try to understand this new phenomenon to him, he seeks a shortcut. To a wizard such as Voldemort, the world is merely obstacles and ways to go around them. He does not understand magic, he only sees it as a tool to gain what he wants. In that way, he is no different than that little boy who never heard of Hogwarts but sought his vengeance upon those he thought wronged him."

"So my blood is damaging him?" asked Harry, who was still a bit confused.

"Why not?" said Dumbledore. ""If it affected his skin, why can't it be affecting his insides?"

"Why don't we just wait until he drops dead sometime?" said Harry.

"It's been almost two years," said Dumbledore. "We can't wait without being sure. But if your blood is doing enough damage maybe we can help it along by killing him ourselves."

"Well, that's lovely," said Harry. "Let's go get him, then."

"It's not that easy, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It never is."

"Okay, what else is there?" said Harry.

"He still has five horcruxes, and the soul within his body," said Dumbledore.

"Five of which we cannot find," said Harry, now confused again.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "That means he must be killed for every horcrux he has, as well as once more."

"Wait, how does that mean he needs to be killed that many times?" said Harry. "Why not just once?"

"His soul is unstable, I said," said Dumbledore. "Not that his horcruxes were completely ineffective. In a rather simplistic manner, imagine every horcrux he has is anchoring his soul to the earth. Now normally if he is 'killed' the horcrux keeps his soul from departing. But since the portion of the soul still within Voldemort's body is being destabilised by your blood, I believe an act of killing would be enough to sever the tie from one horcrux. The act of anchoring his soul being so strained that though it does the job normally, the vicious act of death would result in one horcrux getting severed from Voldemort's soul and then being no longer effective. And then the next time he's killed the same will happen to another of the horcruxes... all the way until all that is left is the piece of soul residing within him, and then once more to ultimately defeat him."

"That means..." said Harry. "Killing Voldemort six times?"

"Killing Voldemort six times," said Dumbledore nodding,"Or seven." His mood had returned to the grave one Harry walked into. He took out his spectacles and cleaned them with a cloth on his table. This went on in silence for a few minutes, until Harry finally broke it.

"Has anyone killed him up to this point?" asked Harry. "Even only once?"

"There has been no record of anyone killing him except for the moment his curse rebounded off you," said Dumbledore. "And I trust you see the gravity of our situation. Voldemort is a most formidable of wizards, his power immense. For one person to best him in a fight and kill him would be a triumph in itself. I shudder to think the potential costs of attempting to kill him multiple times."

Harry sat back, almost drained at the thought of the whole thing. He saw the fierceness of the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort, and there wasn't a witch or wizard with half the power of Dumbledore. How will they manage this?

"Still, it's the path we must take, whatever it may take to reach the end," said Dumbledore. "I shall talk to Professor McGonagall, school curriculum must be wholly concentrated towards defence and fighting the dark arts. I forsee a time shortly where there shall be no teaching location for the youth. We must prepare immediately."

Harry nodded silently.

"Go get some rest, Harry," said Dumbledore, warmly. "We're going to have to discuss how we're going to change strategies tomorrow."

Harry was honoured that Dumbledore considered that they'd work together in considering the next steps, though he was pretty sure Dumbledore would be the far more informed individual in how to proceed. Harry nodded to Dumbledore, lifted his now very weary self off the chair with some effort, and walked towards the door. Right before he walked through it, something caught his mind and he turned once more.

"Professor?" he said.

"Hmmm?" said Dumbledore, looking at him.

"What did you mean, killing him six times... or seven?" asked Harry.

"I have considered something, but this isn't the time to discuss it. Not until I'm sure," said Dumbledore. "I do not wish to cause you alarm. When the time comes, I'll let you know. Good night."

The 'good night' was made in a very polite manner, but left Harry with no doubt that this particular conversation was over. Harry wished his headmaster a good night and left the room.

Dumbledore continued to sit in his chair in silence for a good while longer, sipping his drink from time to time. Lost in his thoughts, one of the greatest wizards to walk the earth was considering as many scenarios as his mind could imagine. The paintings observed him throughout that time, not daring to say a word.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX **

Ron sat down in the couch with a large "oof". Hermione just looked at him.

"Breaking up with Lavender Brown has got to be the toughest thing imaginable," he said, relief in his weary voice. "I really deserve an award for that."

"You wanted to do that for the past two weeks, and attempted four times and failed," said Hermione. "You deserve nothing but my pity."

"I deserve some credit for not giving up," said Ron.

"Nope," said Hermione, with an impish grin.

"Is that Cormac coming over?" said Ron, looking over Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione stiffened and bent slightly over, making herself smaller and less visible to see. She slowly turned her head to look behind her, and seeing nobody she turned back to Ron, who was grinning with victory at his point being made.

"Ha ha," she said, sarcastically. "Fine, your point stands."

"I mean I had only Lavender to complain about," said Ron. "But you had Krum and now McLaggen, what do they have in common? Imposing guys who you then realise are a bit too full of themselves for any sane witch."

"Surely we can't forget your needy 'Won-Won's?" said Hermione, with a raised eyebrow.

"Never mind," said Ron. "Let's call this a draw and move on."

"Agreed," said Hermione, looking back to the open book on her lap. She played with a strand of her hair absentmindedly as she read.

"I wonder what Dumbledore wanted with Harry?" asked Ron after a few minutes.

Hermione, after a moment, looked up from her book at Ron. "I dunno," she said. "He'll tell us when he comes back. It usually is something important they discuss."

"You know," said Ron, "I don't think Dumbledore meets with any other student individually. It's incredible the things they discuss, I mean Harry knows things most other professors don't even know. It's like they have their own things to talk about, that Dumbledore doesn't talk with anyone else. I wonder why?"

"You want the short answer?" she said. "Or the long one?"

"Short," said Ron, not fully sure.

"Harry's special," said Hermione, who turned back to her book. She sighed when Ron spoke again.

"Eh?" said Ron.

"He's special," she repeated.

"Just because of the prophecy thingy?" he asked.

"No, and you don't think that either," she said. "Think, every time something insane has happened when we've been in Hogwarts, who is the only student throwing himself to try to figure out why and if it's dangerous, who is the only student who risks everything to try to stop it?"

Ron was silent.

"I mean, we laugh about it," said Hermione. "But we were eleven years old - _eleven_ - when he led us to try to get the philosopher's stone before who he thought was Snape could get it. It's ridiculous when you think about it. How many eleven-year-olds are running about doing a tenth of that?"

"We were there too," said Ron.

"Yes, yes we were," she said, smiling. "But honestly, would we have been anywhere near there, or the Chamber, or the Shrieking Shack... and on and on and on, were Harry not around?"

Ron had to concede that point.

"That's why Dumbledore talks to him, I guess," she said. "Because regardless of him not being the smartest, most powerful, nor most resourceful wizard about, he has that thing about him where things happen and he manages to cause an effect. Even if sometimes it's pure dumb luck, he makes a difference."

"Hermione," said someone behind her. "I sound awesome!"

They turned around and saw Harry standing behind them. Hermione slapped his arm, and he sat on the couch between them.

"So...?" said Ron, looking intently at him.

"Well, it's a long one," said Harry. "Let's go back to our room."

And so Harry told his closest two friends the discussion he had with Dumbledore, and their reactions were easily predictable as quite frankly anyone would react that way. Hermione gasped and Ron's jaw dropped as he let out a few curses.

"Kill Vo-Vol-" said Ron, who swallowed. "Voldemort six times? We'd be bloody lucky if we survived two times."

"Normally I'd love to disagree with Ron," said Hermione. "But this is going to be insane. No wizard has managed to make a killing blow at Voldemort before. There's not a single claim in the history books of someone hitting him with the Killing curse. And he won't hesitate to burn cities to the ground to survive."

"I know," said Harry, shaking his head. "It's going to be madness."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dean Thomas, a lanky young male, could not hold his laugh in as he walked in the corridor with Seamus, from McGonagall's office. Seamus, looking a bit peeved, could not share in the humour.

"Keep laughing, you git," said Seamus, who wasn't angry. "You were of no help."

"Help?" said Dean, looking incredulously at his best friend. "What in the bloody hell was I supposed to say?!"

"Oh come on," said Seamus. "Let's get back to the common room before Snape finds us."

They walked down the corridor, and an owl flew in from the open window high above. It landed on Dean's outstretched arm, and he took the letter tied to its leg. Dean stroked the feathers for a bit, before letting the owl fly off.

"Pretty late for a letter, isn't it?" asked Seamus.

"Yeah, I asked my Mum for the score about the West Ham game this afternoon," said Dean.

"Just tell me whenever you get the score from an Ireland game," said Seamus.

"Funny, not a football fan, but if Ireland's playing..." began Dean.

"Then I'm watching," said Seamus.

As Dean looked down to open his letter, he didn't see before him, so he didn't know why Seamus was poking his shoulder. Looking up to snap at his friend, he saw what Seamus was looking at.

Walking towards them was a rather attractive young lady with red hair walking towards them, talking animatedly with a female friend. She hadn't seen them yet. Dean looked around to see if he could hide or make a turn, but there wasn't anywhere close enough. Seamus read his friend's thoughts.

"And you call yourself a Gryffindor," Seamus said sadly.

"It's so awkward," said Dean.

By that point, she had seen him, and after a small start she continued to walk with a stiff smile.

"Hi, Dean," she said.

"Ginny," said Dean, nodding.

And they walked by one another. After a few steps, he looked at Seamus.

"So?" asked Dean.

"So... what?" said Seamus.

"Was I cool enough?" said Dean. "Did she think I looked nervous?"

"Do I look like I know what she's thinking?" said Seamus. "I wasn't staring at your face, mate. And you said one word. Come on, let's just go to sleep."

By that point they had reached the portrait, Seamus said the password, and they entered.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Remus Lupin was sitting in the Headmaster's office alone which left him to his thoughts. He felt stressed and it wasn't completely because of the mental strain that war preparations caused. The war preparations had him working with Kingsley Shacklebolt to secure resources in safe locations as well as rounding up those willing to fight the moment things got crazy. He had been travelling endlessly, including to continental Europe to pick up items that Dumbledore deemed potentially useful.

The other stress-cause was a particular hair-colour changing witch who...

"A Knut for your thoughts, Remus?" said a voice.

Remus turned to see Dumbledore walking into the office, along with Hagrid.

"Wha-oh?" said Remus, flustered. "Oh, it was nothing, just thinking about my next travel plans."

"I've seen that look many times before," said Dumbledore, his eyes with a knowing twinkle. "I've never seen it regarding travel plans. No, they tend to be more about the affairs of emotions."

Hagrid politely didn't say anything. Remus sighed.

"Yes, yes, it is," he said. "More about my inability to engage in such affairs, due to my state."

"I disagree," said Dumbledore, but possibly seeing how uncomfortable Remus looked, changed the subject. "How have things been going?"

"Slow, but Kingsley and I have made some progress," said Remus. "We've moved some objects to where you've told us to leave them. I placed a copy of what they are on your desk."

"Good, good," said Dumbledore. "Things need to be moving as quickly as possible. I fear we don't have much time at all."

"How are we going to know when it's started?" asked Hagrid.

"We'll know," said Dumbledore. "In fact, I'm waiting for some news right now."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Slytherin dungeons weren't as dark and gloomy looking as the other Houses expected. Still, there was a dull greenish hue to the fire on the torches. The walls were rough to touch, and the air cooler being in the lower levels of the castle, but it was no less comfortable than what any of the other House resided in. A small group of students sat around a couch, which was also occupied. The platinum blond hair of one stood out.

"Man," said one of the students said aloud. "I'm sick of all this tension. They look at us like we're going to AK them in the back."

"Can you blame them?" said Draco Malfoy, who was looking at the ground hard. "When the time comes, some of us will."

"You know, I don't want to fight," said the student. "I just want to go to classes and graduate. Why does everything have to be a conflict?"

"Almost nobody decides that," said Malfoy. "We just choose what side to be on."

"And if we don't want to choose?" asked the student.

"Well," said a voice from a few metres away, breaking into the conversation. "Do you really want to be standing alone in the middle when killing curses are being thrown about aimlessly?"

They looked to the direction of the voice. A tall student had entered the common room, and was walking in their direction with enough confidence to share it amongst the rest of the students and still have some to spare.

"Blaise," said Malfoy. "Finished the detention already?"

"I did the job asked" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I wasn't going to wait for further jobs to do."

"So you're going to pick a side?" said the student, looking even more nervous at that thought.

"I already did," said Zabini, looking confused at being asked. "With the Dark Lord, of course."

"You're sure of it?" asked a student who was quiet up to this point.

"Well, I'm with Dumbledore," said Terence Higgs.

"I agree with Terence," said Daphne Greengrass. "I like things the way they are. Dumbledore winning makes sure of that. Who knows what would happen if the Dark Lord won."

"Yeah," said Terence. "What problem do you have with muggle-borns? They never bothered me. They're as good as any other witch or wizard."

"They're worthless," said Pansy. "Weaker and useless."

"Mudbloods aren't necessarily useless," said Zabini, who walked to pick up a book from a table and sat down to read it.

The others stared at him. He didn't elaborate and continued to read, not paying attention to them looking at him.

"Wait, they're not?" said Pansy Parkinson. "I thought you said..."

"It depends," said Zabini. "Look at that Granger girl. I bet she knows more about magic than any of you can even fake."

"Then why...?" began Malfoy.

"They're not of us," said Zabini, answering the unfinished question. "They're raised in that other world. They know how to wave a wand, but they don't understand what it means to be a wizard or witch. They don't know the traditions of what fills this world. There's alot of responsibility to wield a force that nobody really understands where it comes from. The muggle world is full of cause and effect. They can't understand the essence of this unexplainable power. Magic is not just potions or spells, it's centuries of deep understanding. _Tradition_. Passed down by generations. It's in our very blood that goes back centuries. How can someone who was not raised by people who have experienced it's existence hope to understand enough of it in a lifetime?

"They're not one of us. They're better off never knowing they can use magic," said Zabini. "They just don't belong here."

"Don't you feel you have to think this way?" said Malfoy. "We're Slytherins, with our families...?" he let the end trail off.

"Have to?" said Zabini. "Look at Terrence and Daphne. If you didn't make the decision, you still made a choice by not walking away from the Dark Lord."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sudden shift in class subjects caught most of the student body off guard. Defense Against the Dark Arts took a massive chunk of the day, and the likes of Transfiguration, Potions and Charms took a slightly more defensive tone as much as it could. Most of the other subjects were dropped and those professors stepping in to provide teaching in the mentioned subjects. History of Magic became more about historical conflicts and strategies. The likes of Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape were excellent individuals to teach Defence so many years could be taught simultaneously. Even Dumbledore stepped in and resumed teaching duties. Time was short, and the moment the first battle began, running a school could turn out to be impossible.

The reasons behind the changes were not kept a secret. A dull hush fell upon the castle, and students spoke in whispers about the inevitable war as they roamed the corridors.

Ron Weasley was walking alone back to the Gryffindor common room from the Great Hall after being late for lunch that afternoon, and he was lost in his thoughts as he made his way through the castle.

He had to admit he was feeling nervous ever since Harry told him about the plans to defeat Vol-Vol... the Dark Lord becoming much harder. He was too young to remember, but he grew up being told about the mayhem of the last war. He lost his uncles and many other relatives.

As he was making his way up a flight of stairs, he walked by a few girls huddled together under a portrait. One of them saw him, and Padma Patil waved. He waved back.

"What are you doing, walking about alone?" she said, smiling.

"I really don't think Death Eaters are going to jump through the portraits at any moment," he said, his tone jovial.

"You never know," she said.

"I have to go back to my House," said Ron. "Nice seeing you lot."

"Wait," said another girl from the group, who happened to be Cho Chang. "I'm heading there. Do you mind if I accompany you?"

"No," said Ron, confused.

And so they walked together towards the tower. They were in silence for awhile, Ron never really recalled having much of a conversation with Cho before.

"So why do you need to go to Gryffindor tower?" he asked, curious.

"I need to return something to Lavender Brown," she said.

"I'd offer to give it to her for you..." said Ron, who really didn't want to have a conversation with Lavender at the present circumstances.

"Don't worry," said Cho, with a laugh that said she clearly knew of Ron's recent break-up. "I wouldn't be able to give it to you, anyways. I'm holding it in confidence."

"So why are you returning it?" said Ron. "Can you tell me that?"

"I got an owl from my parents," she said, her smile disappearing. "They're considering pulling me from the school."

"Why?" said Ron.

"For obvious reasons," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Everyone heard about Dumbledore preparing us for war. No parent is comfortable with their kids being taught about that."

"It's worse if we're not prepared," said Ron.

"I know, but they're in denial," said Cho. "If we acknowledge the situation by teaching lessons only on fighting, then we have to accept the negative truth. Most of the students I know are getting letters from parents to leave Hogwarts. Terry Boot had an argument with his parents. Haven't yours talked to you about it?"

"Mine?" said Ron, thinking to himself. "No, I guess not. My parents have been helping Dumbledore against the Dark Lord for awhile now. I guess we've accepted it for the past two years."

"That's so brave of them," she said.

"We Gryffindors are stubborn people," said Ron. "Speaking of which, the portrait down the corridor. I'm going to ask you to stay here while I go in and call Lavender to come out for you."

"Don't you trust me?" she asked.

"What's the word to get into the Ravenclaw common room?" asked Ron. Seeing her silent, he then said, "See? Same thing."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Harry was looking into the Marauder's Map as he waited for Hermione to finish her lunch. He had arrived to lunch first, while Ron hadn't even come yet. It was common these days considering the teachers had to sometimes split students up during lessons into smaller groups to explain difficult concepts. Harry, who was put together with Seamus and Dean, went through the lesson first. Hermione, who was with Neville and Lavender, went second. Ron was with Parvati and Susan Bones, and still hadn't begun the lesson yet.

Finally Hermione walked out the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry got off the bench and cleared the map out.

"Done?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

They were quiet at first, as they went up a few flights of stairs. Passing a group of students that were, quite unlike most of the others these days, laughing loudly at some story being told, Harry broke the silence.

"They almost look like everything is normal," said Harry.

"We haven't lost everything," said Hermione.

"Things are never going to be the same again for us," he said.

"Have hope, Harry," she said. "The wizarding world recovered after the last war."

"Yeah, but those who fought in it changed after it," said Harry.

She entwined her arm with his. "Then at least let's change for the better," she said.

"Harry!" said a voice behind them, which turned out to be McGonagall when they looked. "Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you."

"I'll see you later," said Hermione, pulling away.

"You can come along if you want," said Harry. "Dumbledore knows I tell Ron and you everything right after."

"Thanks, but I think you know Dumbledore much better than I do," said Hermione. "Go ahead."

Harry went to Dumbledore's office. After giving the password (_Chocolate Nougat_) he knocked on the door, and entered when he got permission. He saw Dumbledore seated behind the desk, as well as two others seated in front.

"Hey Hagrid," said Harry. "Remus! How are you?"

Harry went up and gave Remus a hug.

"I've felt better," he said. "Full moon was a couple of nights ago."

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"No worries, Harry," he said. "How have things been with you?"

"They're okay," said Harry. "A bit worried about things."

"As well all are," said Remus.

"Sir, Professor McGonagall said you wished to see me," said Harry.

"Yes, I did," said Dumbledore. "I'm expecting some news and wanted to talk with you as it came."

"Oh?" said Harry, confused as normally Dumbledore would call for him after receiving news and not before. "About what?"

"I have my suspicions, but let's wait until word arrives. I don't like to speculate if it's not needed," said Dumbledore. "We were discussing the affairs of the heart a short while back."

"I don't think now's the time for that," said Harry softly. "The world's too dangerous."

"Really," said Dumbledore, an eyebrow raised.

"Voldemort back, war is coming, and none of us knowing if we'll be here tomorrow," said Harry, looking at the ground. "This is not the time to think about such a distraction."

"I'm surprised to hear that from you, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Is it not even more admirable that love can be expressed in such a trying time make it even more cherished?"

"Not if you're afraid of losing people," said Harry, who was not expecting to be this forthcoming, but the recent death of a loved one had caused him to dwell on it far too long that he couldn't stop himself from saying what he'd been thinking for quite some time.

"We're all going to lose people some time," said Dumbledore. "It's inevitable. It's the moments we've experienced before we're separated by death that is important."

"Almost everyone I've loved has left me," said Harry. "I can't risk..."

"Risk?" said Dumbledore. "You still have many people you care deeply about, like Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. Would you cut them off for fear of them dying in the future?"

"No," said Harry, his voice softer still.

"Would you regret your friendships with them, should you lose either of them?" said Dumbledore.

"No," was the answer.

"There's nothing about you that precludes you from love," said Dumbledore, looking from Harry to Remus. "I know the lives you have lived have been particularly isolated, but don't think that it means you deserve it any less. Your parents got married in the thick of the last war. They were barely older than you are now when they sadly perished. They were just 21. The time they had together was undoubtedly priceless, won't you agree?"

Harry nodded his head.

"You do not know if you will be breathing tomorrow," said Dumbledore. "Would you deny yourself love today, hoping to wait for a time you're not even sure you'll be around? Do not pity those who have died, but those who live without love."

They sat around in silence for a few minutes, Dumbledore stroking Fawkes as it sang a song softly yet warmth enveloped all that was in the room, until McGonagall entered the office. She had a piece of paper in her hand.

"The Minister for Magic has been assassinated," she said, her voice a bit higher in pitch than usual.

Remus and Hagrid stood up. Dumbledore placing his index fingers together, and closed his eyes. Harry just looked at each adult, his eyes wide open.

A knock was sounded at the door. Mad-Eye Moody walked in, with his staff as a walking stick. He let out a low growl when told about the news, but otherwise exhibited no emotion. Moody had years of experience hearing devastating news, and panic was never a reaction of his.

"It gets worse," said Moody. "Snape hasn't reported to the meeting place."

"Maybe he's been unable to leave," said McGonagall.

"No, I've been there three times, as discussed," said Moody gruffly, shaking his head.

"He's been taken," said Remus, rubbing his forehead. "His cover's blown."

"What does this mean?" said McGonagall.

Up to that point, the three were talking together, almost forgetting the others in the room. The headmaster of Hogwarts finally spoke.

"It means that Voldemort has cast the first spell," he said, his voice grave, his face serious, his blue eyes particularly dull in colour, "It means that war has begun."

* * *

A/N: If you noticed, I didn't want to give the impression that Slytherin house was merely 100% pro-Voldemort. I never liked the idea of the whole house being brushed with such a stroke. I prefer nuance.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.**

**_Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature._**

* * *

**Chapter 2  
The First Step**

The dungeons in the basement of the house was as dark as it was damp, with a few torches lit that only served to prevent the whole place being in utter darkness. Drops of water could be see still on the dark grey walls. The torches fire burned a dull green, leaving an ominous hue upon the location.

Two young men in black robes were seated at a table, playing chess. With the pieces attacking one another, they didn't hear the footsteps of a teenager walking down the stairs until he was at the last steps.

"Oi!" said one of the guards. "What you doing here?"

"Yeah," said the other. "This place is off limits, see?"

"I want to talk to the prisoner," said the young man.

"No, no you can't," said the first guard. "We have orders-"

"To keep an eye on the prisoner," said the teenager, sneering. "Nothing about no visitors. My father owns this house, and has allowed the Dark Lord to use it. You're not questioning my loyalty, now are you?"

The guards looked concerned.

"No, Malfoy," said the second guard. "Go on, but keep it short."

With that, the teenager didn't continue to conversation and walked past the guards, ignoring their muttering behind him. After a few steps further, he let out a short curse at the darkness and waved his wand to light it.

Behind bars that went vertically from the floor to the ceiling, where there was no door to open physically, a man lay on the ground. The cell was devoid of anything save for it's prisoner; no bed, mattress... nothing.

For a period of time, Malfoy did not move and simply looked at the man on the floor.

"Professor?" he said, speaking in a very soft tone.

The dungeons were eerily silent save for the crackles of the fire, so his words, though spoken quietly, carried over clearly nonetheless. The body on the floor stirred, and with what appeared to be a great deal of difficulty slowly turned around.

Malfoy took step back in shock. This was the first he saw of the prisoner since Voldemort ordered he be imprisoned, and his former teacher in potions was not anywhere near a good state. His greasy hair did not completely conceal the bloody nose, the cuts on his face nor the bruises around the eyes.

"Draco," he said speaking slowly. Well, slower than even usual.

"Professor, are you all right?" said Malfoy.

"Look... at... me," said Snape, not deeming to state the obvious, who then coughed. "But don't worry yourself. I hear things have been busy for the Dark Lord lately."

"Sir," began Malfoy, who was then interrupted.

"You'd do well not to let them hear you refer to me in such respect, Draco," said Snape. "I'm... *hacking coughs* I'm a prisoner. Remember, appearance is everything. I know that more than most."

Snape, with some effort, managed to raise himself so that he could rest his back on the wall. Malfoy took a step towards him, but Snape raised a hand and, understanding what he meant, Malfoy stopped approaching.

"They say you've been working for Dumbledore all along," said Malfoy.

Snape was silent.

"Is... is it true?" asked Malfoy.

"What do you think?" said Snape.

"I don't know," said Malfoy. "That's why I asked."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't give thought to it," said Snape. "The Dark Lord has ears everywhere. You take a risk even speaking to me."

"I follow the Dark Lord loyally," said Malfoy defensively. "I obey his every command."

"I never said otherwise, Draco," said Snape.

"But why would you work with Dumbledore?" asked Malfoy.

Snape didn't say anything, and was facing his lap. His hair covered his face, and the only sign of him being alive was the slow rising and falling of his chest.

"Sir?" said Malfoy. "Why-"

"I heard you," said Snape. "It's a stupid question."

"Come again?" said Malfoy.

"It's a stupid question, and you know it," said Snape.

"I don't follow," said Malfoy.

"You're not a little child," said Snape. "Either you understand my actions, or you don't. There's nothing I can say that would change your mind, if you're not already thinking about it."

"I'm just trying to understand," said Malfoy.

Snape remained silent. Malfoy stood there, waiting, and did not say anything. Minutes must've passed, but he didn't keep count. Malfoy then came of the thought that his former potions professor wasn't going to explain himself as he said, and turned to walk away. On his second step, Snape's weak voice was barely heard by Malfoy, who turned around and stood right in front of the bars to get a better hearing.

"Two reasons," said Snape. "One is mine to go to the grave."

"And the other, sir?" said Malfoy.

"The other..." said Snape, who had to stop to take a few deeper breaths, which was heard in gasps. "I never had to obey Dumbledore."

Malfoy wanted to say something, but Snape spoke quickly.

"I hear footsteps," he said. "They're probably coming for more 'fun' on my expense. _Leave_, before you arouse any suspicion which ends up with you sharing my cell."

Malfoy shook his head, but Snape wouldn't take it. Snape's voice suddenly was loud and clear when he said "Go!'

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_The dark and wet passageway seemed to go on endlessly. A young male of sixteen or seventeen stood in front of her, exceedingly handsome with jet-black hair. _

_"Foolish girl," he said, sneering. "Your use is at an end."_

_"Tom, Tom," she said, agitated and confused. "You said you understood me. Tom!"_

_The boy raised his wand, and pointed at her. She saw him mouth words..._

Ginny woke with a start, sitting up, her shirt wet with sweat. She shook her heard, looking around her and trying to remember where she was. She was in a tent, sleeping on an uncomfortable, tiny, bed. She laid back down, but after a few moments of heavy breathing she knew she wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. So she got off the bed onto her feet and walked to the entrance of the tent, and left it.

Sitting outside was Fred who was silently staring in front of him. His eyes were drooping, and he looked like he couldn't wait for his watch to end. He stirred when he saw his sister beside him unexpectedly.

"Bloody hell, Ginny," he said. "You really need to give me a warning."

"Go to sleep," she said. "I'll take the next watch."

"Are you sure?" said Fred. "I have twenty more minutes."

"Yes, I can't sleep," she said. "Go on, you looked like you were lost in your thoughts."

"Aye, I was," he said. "I was just reminiscing on sweet, sweet, Angelina. Been too long since I saw her beautiful..."

"Don't finish that," said Ginny, not trusting Fred's next words to hear them. "Just go to sleep."

Fred obeyed, and gave his sister a peck on the cheek before he went to the tent. She sat on the step her brother had just vacated and looked ahead. The tent was on higher ground, so she had a decent view of the land before her, bathed with light of a half moon neighbouring a scattering of stars. If things weren't so dark, she would've quite enjoyed the view.

After the Minister died, everything seemed to move far quicker than anyone anticipated. Dumbledore made the order that Hogwarts was to be evacuated. Not that there was fear that the castle was at immediate risk, but that it would be too obvious a target to be a base of operations. Dumbledore feared their side being a large, unwieldy, single unit that Voldemort's forces would pick off whenever they decided to fight.

Instead, those opposed to the Dark Lord split up into nearly countless groups, and scattered in all directions. They was led by various members of the Order of the Phoenix, Aurors and Department of Mysteries, and each group had witches or wizards of all ages. Communications between the groups were limited to only the important of discussions. Ginny didn't even know who was in what group nor where they were, they had so little time to move out. All she knew was the people comprising her group. The other important advantage to that was if any group was placed in a dangerous situation, the other groups' whereabouts or identities would not fall into enemy hands.

In Ginny's group, some of the people she was accompanied by Fred, Susan Bones, Terry Boot and Kevin Manngrey, an Auror. It was led by Amelia Bones. She was grateful for having one member of her family with her, because as the days wore on, her fear of what was happening to others in her family left her wondering every day. Her thoughts also turned to one who was as of this moment alone, if he was alive at all.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Could you come in here, Hermione?" said a man.

She got up to her feet, and placed down the book she was reading. She entered the tent, and sat in the chair opposite to him.

"Yes, Remus?" she said.

"How are you doing?" said Remus.

"Fine," she said. "I just miss them."

"I understand," said Remus. "I called you here because Dumbledore has sent word his group is planning to make a move to try to get Snape."

"Okay," said Hermione.

"He needs two other groups to come join him," said Remus. "I wanted to get your thoughts."

She tilted her head in confusion.

"I'm sorry?" she said. "It's not my place to speak on this."

"Come now, Hermione," he said. "If we join in, you would be risking your life, just like any of us."

"What's the alternative?" she said. "You wouldn't be asking if it was only a "do we join?" question."

"True," he said, nodding his head slowly. "The other mission is to help smuggle something quietly into the country."

"What is it?" she said.

"I dunno," he said. "We'll only be told if we accept it. So what do you think?"

"Hmmm," she said, thinking for a moment. "It seems like..."

"Go on," he said, encouraging her.

"It seems like the smuggling would be something important," she said. "Otherwise we'd know what it is. Snape being rescued is important, but I think if the other mission may be something that could help us in the fight then that's the mission I'll take."

"I thought the same," said Remus. "I shall send word back to Dumbledore."

Hermione went to her mattress in the tent, and picked up the rucksack she kept beside it, and went through it to try to make sure she had everything in the right place. It had the extension charm on it, and while she was pretty sure she wasn't missing anything, she was nervous about the first mission she would be participating in.

See, Hermione loved the intricacies of knowledge and information. She drowned herself in the teachings of those who discovered, created and progressed magical theories and powers and felt she had a solid understanding of the very fine details that wove through the mysteries of magic. However, she had to admit that she always found herself daunted at the moments where swift actions were needed and a split decision could be the difference between life and death. She watched, impressed, over the years as Harry Potter would move naturally in such a situation. Make no mistake, he sometimes stumbled through situations, sometimes needing help, but his ability to jump into life threatening situations with little fear or hesitance at the risk to himself would always leave her in awe. Even Ron Weasley, who though did hesitate and consider the risk before acting, had that ability that when the moment occurred, he'd jump into the situation. Obviously it wasn't always the wisest choice to act without hesitance, but when it was victory could be gained from the slimmest of margins.

She sat on her mattress, wondering where her two best friends were. How she missed them.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Weasley!" roared Mad-Eye Moody. "Up! We're heading out!"

"What?!" said Ron, feeling disoriented being woken up so violently loud. "Right now?"

"Yes now, Weasley," said Mad-Eye, very impatiently. "What do you think? We're going to enter the Dark Lord's area to try to extract a prisoner of his in midday? If you're not ready in six minutes, we leave you behind."

Ron hurriedly got into his robes, stumbling about. He managed to be standing outside, wand ready, in five minutes, and had a look of accomplishment on his face. Mad-Eye was standing before Ron and the others, who included two Aurors, four non-Ministry adults and three other students. The students were Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom.

"Right, you lot," said Moody. "We're going in, but we're not going to be the point team for the mission, got it? We're only support. We keep them Death Eaters busy, so that when whatever Dumbledore's got planned he can do with less fuss."

"What's his plan?" said Anthony.

"None of your concern," said Moody gruffly. "Nor is it mine. The less we know, the less we spill if we're caught."

Anthony looked shocked at Moody's words, and Moody gave a humourless laugh.

"What?" said Moody, scoffing. "Don't tell me you haven't considered being captured, boy? There comes a time where it's either that, or to do it my way."

"What's your way?" asked Neville.

"If it ever comes to the point where capture is the only result," said Moody. "I'll gladly die. And take as many of them bastards as I can with me before I go."

Nobody shared with Moody's chuckling. Moody then took out a watch from his pocket, and nodded slowly. He placed the watch back into the pocket and looked at his group.

"Right then," he said. "It's time."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Blaise Zabini was lazily sending smoke out of his wand, waving it slowly about and stared at the trails of smoke that were made. The quiet monotony of the days was not what he was expecting of a war. It's not that he wanted to undergo frequent near-death experiences, but he expected that things would be busy.

He saw a platinum blond young man walking up to him.

"How's the prisoner?" he asked.

"Quiet," said Draco. "Bellatrix is out travelling, thank goodness."

"Feeling pity for the prisoner?" asked Blaise, with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't say you're not," said Draco. "He was always good to us."

"I know," said Blaise. "But Snape picked his side, and that was with Dumbledore. Don't think that if the moment came he would not cast a killing curse on you if need be."

Draco remained silent.

"It's incredibly boring sometimes," said Blaise.

"Would you prefer us dying at any moment?" said Draco. "It's quiet. Quiet is good for me."

They sat there, continuing to watch about for a long while in silence, left to their thoughts.

Draco Malfoy was still as conflicted as he was before the war began. He didn't exactly like Dumbledore or Potter, but he did come to question everything he was raised to believe which told him that he must hate them. For all that is said about them, when they won the war, nobody was harmed apart from imprisoning those who fought the other side. If the Dark Lord won, what kind of society would occur? Draco couldn't imagine a regular Ministry functioning in various departments, or a Hogwarts school year, or people just going for an enjoyable shopping experience in Diagon Alley. All the Dark Lord promised was chaos and fear. There was nothing else.

Draco watched in disgust as the Dark Lord's followers sycophantically obeyed their orders with no regard or thought of what was done. He doubted a member of the Order would be tortured if they disagreed with Dumbledore. Heck he doubted anyone on the other side even feared a fellow member. The longer things went, the more he doubted the side he was in. But he couldn't say anything out loud, for risk of a rather painful death.

"Hang on," said Draco getting up to his feet, pointing into the darkness surrounding the trees, which he could've sworn he saw movement a second ago.

He took out his wand, and Blaise already had his in hand. But before he could do anything, a bright light flew from the trees towards them.

"Send the word out!" said Blaise, loudly. "Tell them we're under attack. I'll try to hold them back. Go!"

Draco Malfoy wasn't proud that he didn't argue, and left. He did return to Zabini's side when word was out.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

He panted as he ran through the thick branches of the many, many, trees that slashed at his face and raised arms. His heart pounded in fear of the possibility that someone had seen him. He couldn't run as fast as he could since the ground was uneven and obstacles littered the ground forcing him to change directions endlessly.

After a time, he had to slow down. One, because he didn't hear anything behind him so it seemed safe to stop, and two, more importantly, he was winded. He leaned forward, bending his back while placing his palms on his knees, and breathed in as deeply as the interrupting gasps let him. When he got his breath back, he took out a tent from his bag, and waved his wand to cast concealment charms about him.

Dean Thomas was alone in every definition of the word. When the war began, he happened to be visiting his mother, having been given a leave of absence due to a death of a cousin. And while there, completely inexplicable, a couple of Death Eaters attacked his house. How they knew he was there, he had no idea. They didn't even seem to want something from him, only apparently the desire to kill him.

What happened afterwards was chaotic, and Dean didn't know exactly everything that happened, but he somehow managed to escape. What he also knew was his mother was killed in the mayhem, a Killing Curse hit her, and to his shame he realised there was nothing he could do to save her and immediately apparated out of the house.

He appeared in a forest he went camping as a kid a randomly chosen destination from his memory. The past few weeks were incredibly depressing, and lonely. He got a letter from Seamus telling him about how everyone abandoned Hogwarts castle and were split into groups scattered around the country. Seamus told him that Dumbledore wanted to let Dean know that he was to keep safe, but it wouldn't be secure sending a letter saying where to meet up with any one group, for fear of the owl falling into the wrong hands.

Dean couldn't go into the muggle world to seek refuge there. The Death Eaters found him in his own house, and the result was his mother was murdered. He would not dare risk the life of any muggle relative or friend with his presence. It wouldn't be fair. Even so, he was an only child and lost his remaining parent, and he didn't keep much in touch with his muggle friends since being accepted by Hogwarts. All that he had left were a couple of aunts and uncles, along with a few cousins. They all lived in East London as well; if the Death Eaters found his mother, then there was no reason to believe they couldn't find his relatives.

So Dean was alone. He spent as much time as he could in the forests, but would pop back into cities or towns when need be. He'd keep to himself, and being muggle-raised he was far more familiar with the muggle world than the Death Eaters would most likely be. He didn't have the money to rent a place of residence, hence his living in tents in the forest.

So far, things were quiet, but he was nervous almost constantly and seemed to be unable to stop himself from recollecting the Death Eaters in his house, and the visions were worse in his sleep. He also frequently felt he was being watched, hence his running a moment ago, but no-one ever appeared. He was paranoid and didn't know if that was a good thing to keep him safe.

And so, Dean Thomas walked about aimlessly, knowing full well the chances of just stumbling on the Order in the random middle of the British Isles was a chance far too small. He just had to bide his time and hope that he could survive long enough when the time came for him to act.

He sat down in the tent after casting the spells, and took out a newspaper from his bag which he found on the ground nearby. After seeing no magic-related news in the front pages, he turned to the back and then sighed deeply, and rubbed his eyes wearily.

Another loss for West Ham. This season really wasn't going so well.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

There were a few times where Hermione's thoughts were disrespectful towards teachers, and never about the ones she liked. But Dumbledore was barking.

She stood on a small ship on the English Channel, and on the ship were two large crates. Occasionally they shook and a roar would be heard. A roar, for what Dumbledore wanted to get were two dragons. So Remus' group went all the way to Romania to smuggle two large, and rather vicious, dragons to bring all the way back to Britain. What on earth was Dumbledore thinking, just let dragons loose on Voldemort? Remus had said he had no idea what Dumbledore was intending to do.

She saw the waves crash about as the ship moved effortlessly through, and was left to her thoughts. She, nor anyone in the Order, was allowed to send messages about unless strictly necessary, which meant she hadn't spoke to Harry and Ron since they left Hogwarts.

It really broke her that she wasn't able to communicate to her two best friends in any way, no owls or anything. She tried to not even think of her parents, as she always ended up crying when she did. This was because the moment she heard what had happened at Dean's house, she had rushed to her parents house, and ended up doing what was the hardest thing she'd ever imagined. It went against every piece of her will, but Hermione had no idea if the Death Eaters were going to come to her parents house at any moment, and she didn't want to take the risk of explaining to them that they had little time. That they had to leave. If the Death Eaters attacked Harry Potter's roommate's muggle house, it was fair to assume his best friend's house was very likely a target as well.

They were approaching land. They weren't going to go to a port, because a muggle port could lead to too many questions asked, while a magical one may not be secure. All they had was the two incredibly large crates, so getting the cargo off shouldn't be too difficult, so long as there wasn't anyone nearby to see them.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.**

**_Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature._**

* * *

**Chapter 3  
Rescue**

A young man was crouched behind a small hill. His jet black hair, which was quite disheveled as a normality, had grown to the point where he had to brush it aside from his eyes; the brilliantly green eyes that had round-rimmed glasses in front. A small lighting-shaped scar could be visible on his forehead, if there was much light to look at him with, light that wasn't around in the darkness surrounding him.

He snuck a glance over the ground to see what was happening. There was flashes of light beneath him, on the outside as well as behind the windows of the house facing them. He gripped his wand and rose slowly, but was stopped by a hand that suddenly pressed upon his shoulder.

"Not yet," said a voice.

He turned to see an elderly man with blue eyes, and a silver beard long enough to pass down his waste. The older man was looking intently at the younger man, silently emphasizing the point he was trying to make, and only let go when the younger man nodded.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ron Weasley was taking cover from behind a corner, and was letting out a stream of curses.

"No point for that, laddie," snarled Moody, as he threw another curse around the corner on the other side. "More is going to come. Let's go!"

Moody turned around the corner, and ran. Ron hesitated for a second, thinking a bunch of jumbled curses, and then followed.

His head snapped back as a spell blasted a hole in the wall right in front of him, and his feet skidded as he tried to rearrange his body position to run again in one motion. He threw a few curses in front of him, not knowing if any hit it's target, and managed to catch up with Moody who was understandably not moving too quick for Ron.

Ron raised his wand as someone came from the corridor on the left. He stopped himself from saying anything when he saw it was Neville.

"Come on!" yelled Neville. "There's a way out here."

Moody and Ron didn't ask any questions and went his way. Moody threw a spell over his shoulder, his magical eye turned in that direction, and a Death Eater fell down.

"Why aren't we going deeper?" said Ron. "He must be nearby."

"We follow orders," growled Moody.

They followed Neville and met up with the rest of their team, which included Anthony Goldstein and Hannah Abbott. Neville pointed at a huge hole in the wall, and behind it lay a short distance of grass before leading towards a thick collection of trees.

As they ran to the trees, Ron heard someone roar - over all the bangs and whooshes going about - "Potter's here! Contact the Dark Lord!" and he immediately came to a stop, turning around. A hand slammed on his shoulder and he felt himself being dragged.

"But-" he sputtered, indignantly.

"No laddie!" shouted Moody. "Let's go!"

They crossed through the trees, and felt themselves passing through the magical wards covering the residence. Ron, still being held by Moody, felt the familiar feeling of world pressing on every part of his body as he disapparated.

He landed on the ground, and fell to his knees, and Moody's hand was pulled away from his shoulder. Loud pops were heard as the others from the team apparated into his view.

Moody leaned forward to look hard at Ron, who hadn't gotten up yet, his face contorted into a grimace.

"Listen," said Moody, growling. "I respect any witch or wizard who's willing to run back into a fight, but we have orders. Following or ignoring orders can mean the difference between our side surviving or dying, and more importantly our side gaining victory or defeat. You hear me? I don't care if that was your mother who popped by there, our mission was clear. Dumbledore said to start a commotion and leave, and that's what we did. We don't make stupid sacrifices or risk fellow team members getting killed trying to save your life."

Ron looked at him. Moody clenched his hands.

"That's how our team is going to be run, lad," said Moody. "You don't like it, now's the time to leave."

Ron shook his head.

"Good," said Moody, who then extended his hand towards Ron. "Now get up, you fought well."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Thankfully there was one muggleborn in the group who had experience driving muggle vehicles, because while she always intended to drive, studies in Hogwarts put a delay on that. She sat in the passenger seat of what she thought was a medium sized lorry, while the rest of the group remained hidden in the back with the crates.

Hermione was bobbing her head to the song on the radio, not recognising what it was. She really was into music before her school letter arrived; one of her fond memories was hopping up and down as a kid whenever _Top of the Pops_ was on the telly. When she first came to Hogwarts she was in awe of the new, fantastical, world and delved deep into it, but she couldn't deny as the years went on she realised how much she was also giving up as well. She'd talk about it with Harry (Ron certainly never understood) many times, and while Harry got precisely what she was talking about, he never felt exactly the same. Her memories of the muggle world was mixed, with the negatives being not having many friends for being teased as a know-it-all, but she had her parents and a few friends she played with. There was the theatre and movies, and yes, music. Harry was prevented from enjoying all that because of his abusive - Hermione could remember her shock when she realised how emotionally Harry's relatives were, as she was did have some naivete in her youth, whereas Ron really understood how bad it was even as a twelve year old - and the wizarding world was more of an escape for Harry. She lost so much, and had to accept losing far more.

**_Almost two months ago_**

_Hermione ran up the driveway to the familiar house, the one she had a multitude of memories where she grew up in. The tree was taller than when she fell and broke her arm. The grass where she had picnics with her toys. The fence where she attempted to place a sundial she made when she was seven during her summer break (the sundial fell and broke when she was inside, and it took her parents quite some time to console the sad little girl). She was gripping an envelope that was given to her by Dumbledore upon her request; to her eternal gratitude, he never asked her why she wanted them. Using his connections, he managed to provide the identification papers as well as help move her families assets to the new identities._

_She reached the door, and was nearly out of breath by that point, mostly due to her emotional state than physical tiredness. She stretched her hand and tried to turn the doorknob. The door was locked. She exhaled in relief, it could only be a good sign. She knocked the door by banging her closed fists on the wood._

_"Mum!" she said, her voice quite loud and filled with pleading. "Dad!"_

_The door finally opened, and a middle-aged woman stood behind it. She looked in surprise._

_"Hermione?" she said. "We weren't expecting you for a few months."_

_She became silent when her daughter enveloped her in a hug._

_"Is everything okay, dear?" she said._

_Hermione nodded with her face rubbing against her mother's chest. "It is, Mum," she could only say._

_Hermione pulled away and shut the door behind her, instinctively going through the trouble of locking the door. She went to the living room, mother behind her. Her father was sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. He had lowered it due to the voices from the door._

_"Did you say Herm-" he began, stopping upon seeing his daughter enter the room. He quickly got up, walked towards her and hugged her.  
_

_"Mione! This is a surprise," he said. _

_"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you I was coming," she said. "It was unexpected."_

_"What do you mean by that, dear?" said her father._

_"Please sit down," she said. _

_Her parents, knowing when their daughter was being very serious, obeyed. She stood in front of them._

_"Are you going to explain what's going on?" said her mother._

_"I will," said Hermione, her voice shaking. "I just need to cast a spell. For if erm... if anyone is listening."_

_Her parents nodded, dumbfounded. She reached into her clothes and took out a small stick, which she then raised. The wand shook in her grasp. She took a deep breath and then pointed forward at them. She then began to softly speak words for quite some time. The words flowed out of her mouth that they almost became a soft hum. There was no sparks or bangs, only a very faint mist-like substance that could barely be made out in the air._

_Her parents remained fixed in seating, staring blankly ahead of them, all the while as she spoke. She kept her wand still in the air as she spoke, they shook no more for that moment. She continued to speak for a minute or two. The incantation was long, the incantation was difficult to enunciate, but Hermione had the concentration to keep going. She wasn't daunted by the challenge, being the most brilliant witch at Hogwarts during her studies there. She knew the spell had to be difficult to be strong enough to complete remove ever flicker of memory of herself, yet pliable to reverse if both the war ended _and_ she managed to survive._

_Finally, she reached the end of the spell, and she lowered her arms. Her parents still remained in a daze facing the wall ahead of them, but that was expected with the spell as while the magical incantations was finished, the magic still had one more thing. She breathed deeply in, and then spoke the lines she had memorised._

_"Your names are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins," she said, making sure to speak loudly enough that no word would be misheard. "You do not have a daughter named Hermione Granger. You never had a daughter named Hermione Granger. You've always dreamed of moving to Sydney, Australia. Upon my exit from this building, you will reawaken, and when you do, you shall look into this envelope on the table and will find all the information you need, two airline tickets leaving tonight from Heathrow, and the address you will stay in Sydney. You will not have to pay rent in this address as it is now yours. You will not sell this house until five years have passed."_

_She walked to the cupboard beneath the stairs and took out four of the suitcases the family kept there. She waved her hand and after a few seconds clothes from the parents bedroom flew down the steps, folded in midair, and then settled within the suitcases. Another wave of the hand resulted in many boxes appear from thin air, and all the smaller objects in the house flew about in the air as they were charmed to be placed into the boxes. All except for the framed photographs._

_Looking about her and the room was bare apart from the sofa, table and television. She hopped upstairs and found her room. Inside was so many things that she really was loath to part with but she couldn't risk packing them where her parents may stumble upon them and trigger their memories of their daughter. She didn't have time to place them anywhere, so discarding them was her only option. She waved her wand and every object in the room, including her bed and desk, crumbled before her into smaller and smaller pieces, until they disappeared before her. She walked into every room of the house, seeking out any object that belonged to her and discarding of them as well. She also sought out every picture the house had of her, and removing herself from them._

_When she was finished she went back to the living room. Her parents hadn't moved yet, following her words. She looked at them from the doorway, with her eyes wet. She turned to leave, but after taking a step she stopped. She turned back around, and walked up to her parents, not knowing if this was the last she would ever see of them. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on each of her parent's cheeks. _

___ One last wave of her wand had the boxes and suitcases seal themselves. She then left the house through the front door, and upon closing the door, her parents awoke from the trance._

___Tears were now streaming down her face as she walked out of her parents' lawn, no matter how much she wiped them with her hands and sleeves. She walked a short distance until she found a secluded spot between two houses. She then disapparated._

___She appeared in small clearing, and after waving towards Remus to indicate her return, she went to her tent, and sat on her bed. She placed a silencing spell around her, put the wand down on the table, and then lay on her bed. She clutched her knees to her chest._

___She cried herself to sleep._

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Albus Dumbledore looked to Minerva McGonagall and Harry Potter.

"Remember," he said. "Moody's group should be leaving out soon, while Shacklebolt's team will continue to cause havoc, but will not come near to Severus' cell. It's just the three of us, understood?"

They nodded. Dumbledore looked to the sky, and then at the house. After a moment, he nodded to himself. He got to his feet.

"It's time," he said simply.

As Harry made his way down the slope with his former Transfiguration professor and headmaster, he tried to move quickly but not slip on the damp grass. Dumbledore waved his hand and a portion of the wall they were approaching shimmered, and he walked through it with McGonagall behind. Harry looked around, shrugged, and followed behind them.

He shivered as he walked through the wall, it felt odd but inexplicable why. Looking at the corridor they entered, it looked in complete ruin. Cabinets destroyed, the walls and ceilings with blasts all over, and the ground covered in dust and rubble.

He was used to being in dangerous situations where he needed to act quickly, but this night he felt oddly passive in his experience, where he followed Dumbledore and McGonagall about. They had him watch their backs, but as they moved they seemed to have everything in control and he just felt like he was added insurance.

He wondered what was going on in the other side of the house, with loud explosions frequently being heard. Whatever Moody and Shacklebolt's teams were doing, they kept the Death Eaters pretty occupied enough that they face little resistance until they reached the basement. A locked door stood before the basement, but it only took a simple wave from Dumbledore to unlock it. They descended down the steps slowly and cautiously.

At the bottom of the steps were two Death Eaters seated. They had heard the door open, and were crouching behind an overturned table. Harry looked up as Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Could you please find Severus?" asked Dumbledore. "Minerva and I will see to this."

Harry nodded and hopped down the steps. He did not see the spell flying towards him until it was too late to deal with it, but he watched it deflect away from him, due to which professor of his he didn't know. He ran down the corridor of the dungeon, which was far more expansive than a muggle sized house standing above would've normally have.

Finally he found the cell that he was looking for. Harry shuddered at the appearance of the occupant within, but he was not one to get distracted when the action hit, so he went to work. He saw that the bars didn't open in any manner he was familiar with, and rather than waste time trying to figure out magic he was unfamiliar with, he raised his wand ready to say the Reductor curse. Before he could say anything, he was stopped by a voice.

"No!" said Snape loudly within. "Are you insane? There are magical wards on the bars."

Harry looked at Snape, hand still in the air, and didn't know what to do. With much difficulty, Snape managed to stumble unto his feet.

"Give your wand to me," he said, his voice (despite being bloodied up) allowed no dissent.

Harry leaned forward.

"Careful, Potter," said Snape. "Don't touch the bars with either your hand or wand."

Harry slipped the wand through, though his hand did shake a bit at how intently Snape stared at the wand. Snape accepted it and stepped back away from the bars, which Harry copied. Snape waved the wand in the air, mumbling words that Harry couldn't distinguish. He went on for a number of seconds, while Harry stood outside hearing the various noises going about the house. Harry could tell though that Snape's energy was rather limited as Snape leaned on the wall for support as he continued to speak, and appeared to weaken rapidly in front of him.

Dumbledore and McGonagall finally reached the cell, and upon seeing the situation did not hesitate to start waving their wands at the bars themselves. Seeing them, Snape dropped Harry's wand and slid down the wall to the ground.

The bars melted in front of Harry and the three entered the cell. Dumbledore cast a spell which had Snape's limp body rise into the air, as well as a blue sphere appearing around Snape. Harry made sure to pick up his wand. Dumbledore turned and walked to leave the cell, which Snape's levitated body moved to follow, and Harry and McGonagall walked behind it. Harry saw the two guards, he couldn't tell whether unconscious or dead, sprawled upon the dungeon floor.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Snape stirred.

"Albus," he said softly, clearly uncomfortable speaking. "Draco..."

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "We don't have time. We cannot just take him away."

"Albus, we can't wait," said Snape, pleading. "_Please_."

Harry just looked back and forth, not understand the least what was being conveyed. Dumbledore sighed, and turned to Harry.

"I need Minerva to protect me as this spell requires alot of concentration, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I must ask you to find Draco Malfoy."

"And what?" said Harry. "We have what we came for. More Death Eaters are coming. Let's go."

"Harry, I must ask you to trust me," said Dumbledore. "Offer him to come with us."

Were it any other adult, Harry would've continued to argue, but he simply nodded. Dumbledore smiled his gratitude.

"We shall wait for you outside," said Dumbledore.

"That wasn't the plan," said Harry. "Go on, I'll apparate to the location."

"Albus, I must insist-" said McGonagall, who clearly found the idea of leaving Harry alone unacceptable.

"Let us go, Minerva," said Dumbledore, kindly. "You must trust Harry to succeed."

"I'll be okay," said Harry. "Please go, professor."

With that, Harry turned and against his instincts went away from where they entered the house and towards the other corridors of a battle. Either the house's foundations were weak or both sides didn't hold back with the intensity of spells. Walls had gaping holes on them, some parts had the ceiling fallen in, and the air crackled with the remnants of spells cast.

For a time he didn't see anyone at all, perhaps Dumbledore's plan of having Moody and Shacklebolt's team distracting the Death Eaters being too effective. Finally he found himself in the midst of Death Eater mayhem, but having come from the rear of the Death Eaters they didn't spot the Boy Who Lived running between them.

As tempted as he was to knock a few spells at them, he felt that so long as they don't notice him it would be wiser to just keep moving until he reached Malfoy. He cursed his luck at not bringing the Invisibility Cloak, thinking that as he was going with a group it wouldn't be used as there was no way he'd try to sneak off and leave the others to being attacked. He resolved himself to always carrying the cloak with him because, as could be seen that dark night, plans change in battle.

Him being unnoticed wasn't going to go on forever, and suddenly one of the Death Eaters he roughly shoved as he ran past him spotted him.

"Potter's here!" roared the Death Eater. "Contact the Dark Lord!"

That was followed with "Are you sure?" "Contact him yourself, you saw him!" and "Make sure before we call for him."

In the confusion, he managed to get through a fair number of them, and found himself skidding through a room. Still no sign of the blond git. Finally, with Death Eaters now seeking him out, he saw through a window the person he was looking for.

He aimed his wand at the window, covered his face with his other arm, and blasted the glass. He then hopped through the opening and landed with a soft thump on the grass below.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Why aren't we joining the others, again?" said Malfoy.

After the first few spells were cast from the trees, it became clear that the attacks were actually coming from the other sides of the house and this was diversion. Upon realising it, the Death Eaters left the spot to confront the attackers.

"Because the first spell came at here, _and_ we have orders to keep watch on this side of the building," said Zabini. "Until we know what's happening, it'd be stupid to leave this area unattended. You don't know if they're waiting out there until this is free for them to attack from another side."

Malfoy was not really convinced, and with every explosion or smash he grew even more doubtful. After a period of nervousness, they heard the smashing of glass. Malfoy was ashamed that he jumped at hearing the sudden noise.

"By Merlin's beard," said Zabini, rising to his feet.

It took Malfoy a second longer than Zabini to recognise the person approaching them, but when he did he gripped his wand tighter.

First I must explain their reactions. What the Order didn't understand, what even Albus Dumbledore did not fully appreciate, is the utter fear Death Eaters in general had of Harry Potter. Before you scoff and wonder why on earth vicious wizards and witches would fear a young male who never really displayed the magical prowess to earn it, think about it. The Death Eaters followed and greatly feared the Dark Lord. And no matter how powerful the Dark Lord had been, he was unable to bring Harry to his knees. The same Dark Lord who was so feared wizards would tremble before the merest whisper of his _nom-de-guerre_ was bested by this Potter more than once. The first time before Potter could even walk. They watched as their wands linked in the graveyard and how it was Harry who forced back the Dark Lord until the ghosts of the past returned to haunt the Dark Lord. They never admitted it, but Harry Potter caused them much disquiet. They were not running over themselves to chase Potter down, even though he appeared to be alone (which further confused them and caused them to worry).

Malfoy raised his wand and was opening his mouth to yell out a curse before...

"Wait!" said Potter.

For some reason, some inexplicable reason, Malfoy and Zabini obeyed.

"What, Potter?" said Zabini.

"Snape said to offer you a way out," said Potter.

Malfoy looked in confusion at Potter, and then shot at Zabini a "can you believe this guy?" expression.

"You're mental," said Malfoy.

"Do you want to come with me?" snapped Potter, looking very irritated with the whole conversation. "Decide quickly, I don't have all night."

Malfoy just turned back and forth from Potter to Zabini, both of whom merely looked at Malfoy, waiting.

"Come on," said Malfoy to Zabini. "This is madness."

"You heard him," said Zabini, whose wand was still pointed at Potter. "You said you didn't know if you could decide. Now's your chance. Is it with the Dark Lord... or with _him_?"

"But-but-" sputtered Malfoy.

"You don't have time," said Zabini, loudly. "The curses are flying and you cannot stay out of it. Decide, now!"

Malfoy stood silent. His face didn't betray his emotions, but he was sweating. When it got to the point that both Potter and Zabini thought he wasn't going to decide, Malfoy finally looked at Potter and nodded his head. Zabini shut his eyes for a moment, but then nodded as well. He pointed at the trees.

"Go," said Zabini.

"Won't you come with us?" said Malfoy.

"I've made my decision," said Zabini simply. "Go."

Potter ran towards the trees, and Malfoy followed. As they reached a far enough distance, Potter told Malfoy to grab his shoulder, and then Potter disapparated from the spot, with Malfoy coming along.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.**

**_Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature._**

* * *

**Chapter 4  
Muggles in the Highway**

_During the earlier part of the Hogwarts school year_

_The party was already underway when he entered. He really didn't want to come, but was listening to Dumbledore's request he try to be close to the potions professor. He never did feel comfortable in parties and the like, for obvious reasons, but he was going to have at least two friends there. His date, too, of course._

_He walked by Cormac Mclaggen boasting about something to Melinda Bobbin, and didn't slow down to risk being a part of that conversation. He nodded and smiled at Ginny, who looked lovely as she walked hand in hand, and Dean. They both looked a bit stressed, and Harry noted he should steer clear from them together tonight._

_He was dancing with Luna, his date, later on and for the first time that night he had to admit he was enjoying himself just a bit. Luna was regaling him with stories about the hungry pix-sloths of Permbyshire and how their love for liquorice was the trick to taming them. He didn't speak much, but he did enjoy hearing her speak with such conviction._

_After the third dance, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turning his head he saw it to be Neville. _

_"May I cut in?" he said. _

_"Where's Hermione?" said Harry, having seen Neville dancing with her not too long ago, as he let go of Luna._

_"She went off for a bit," said Neville._

_"Thank you," said Harry, nodding low towards Luna. _

_"My pleasure," said Luna, who returned it with a cute curtsy and a mischievous grin. She turned to Neville._

_It took awhile to find Hermione, but he managed to see her standing by the table with the refreshments. She was staring at the direction of the throng of people, but wasn't exactly looking at anything in particular. He placed a hand on the small of her back._

_"Penny for your thoughts?" said Harry._

_She turned around and smiled. "Penny?" she said. "Are you trying to bribe me with muggle money?"_

_"There's no amount of money that I could win you with," he said._

_"Smooth, Potter," she said, her voice scoffing but her face blushing._

_"Can I have a dance?" said Harry, offering his hand._

_"Of course," she said, accepting it._

_He guided her back, and they began to dance. He didn't recognise the music, but he didn't dislike it._

_"So, you've got a free night, it seems," she said._

_"You'd think," said Harry, his voice low. "I'm only here as Dumbledore asked me to get close."_

_"Ah I forgot," she said. "Always work, isn't it, for you?"_

_"Hermione, are you of all people accusing me of over-working?" he said, his eyebrows raised._

_"Not school work," she said, slapping his arm. "But the adventure, I guess. Something's always dragging you."_

_"That's because something's always happening," he said. "I do wish for quieter days."_

_She rested her head on his chest, and they continued to dance in silence. He didn't recognise the feeling he felt on his chest, below the skin I mean, but it did feel pleasant. Harry, unfortunately, was not familiar with physical contact. _

_His attention was grabbed by seeing Malfoy walking out of the party room, and Snape following him with equally quick steps. He pulled back from Hermione, reluctantly, and untangled himself from her._

_"What is it?" she said._

_"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes still fixed on the doorway behind her. "Something's caught my eye. I got to go."_

_"Harry-" she said, but he simply waved and left the room quickly. On his way out, he walked past Dean and Ginny, who were in the middle of a rather heated argument. _

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A young woman was walking as swiftly as she could on the rocks that littered the ground. Her hair was pink, but duller in tone than it usually was. The ground was hard and down the distance ended in a cliff. The roar of the waves with the blowing of the wind could be heard all around. She walked up to a black man who was staring at the water below, lost in his thoughts seemingly.

"You called, Kingsley?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "There's a sighting of Death Eaters near a muggle town. We move out quickly."

Tonks stood still, waiting for more. She wouldn't be the one called to give that order.

"We'll be splitting in two," said Kingsley. "I want you to take charge of the other half."

"Are you sur-" she said, before he interrupted her.

"We don't have time," said Kingsley. "You also have experience in the muggle world, due to your father taking you. I trust you."

She nodded, and went.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hermione was taken out of her thoughts of her parents when she noticed the lorry slowing down.

"Wha-?" she said, confused.

The wizard beside her pointed at the rear-view mirror. She tried looking at it, but the angle was off from her seat so she turned in and looked outside her window. She slapped hard on the glove compartment.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger," she said. "_Bugger_."

A police car was behind them and had the lights on. Upon parking behind the lorry, a police officer came out of the car and walked towards the lorry.

"What do we do?" said Hermione, speaking rhetorically.

"Why you asking me?" said the wizard. "Do I look like I've have much experience dealing with muggle police?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes and groaned. The driver lowered his window, and Hermione waved her wand on some blank pieces of papers.

"Confudus charm?" suggested the wizard.

"Come on, James," she said, sighing. "It'd have to be the most powerful one ever cast to make even a muggle not notice a magical power as big as a dragon. One powerful enough that if any Death Eaters are watching us, they'd know for sure we're hiding something. No, we're going to have to talk our way out."

"What about -" began James.

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head emphatically as she interrupted him. "No Unforgivables with innocent people."

The police officer had reached the car and peered down the window. The officer wore a mustache and a stern look on his face, and asked for the license and insurance certificate.

"Here you go," said James, passing the papers.

The officer looked at papers that were in reality blank. After a moment, he passed them back to James.

"What kind of cargo are you carrying?" asked the officer.

"Fruits," said Hermione.

"Fruits?" asked the officer.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Apples, oranges, tomatoes..."

"Tomato?" said the officer. "That's not a fruit."

"Yes, it is," said Hermione.

"No, it's not," said James, looking at her confused.

"Yes, it is," said Hermione, giving James a 'what the hell?' look. "Anyways, that's what we're carrying."

"Mind if I look at these... fruits?" said the officer, who didn't wait for a response and walked towards the back of the vehicle.

James took out his wand, and leaned over the window to look at the officer. Hermione pulled his arm back.

"What the hell?" she said. "This is a top secret mission, and we don't know if we're watched. If we're not, a bloody spellfight with muggles in the middle of the bloody highway may draw attention."

"What do we do?" said James. "He's waiting for us in the back."

She sat back, thinking. She took her wand out.

"Drive," said Hermione.

"What?" he said.

"Drive!" she said. "Now!"

He slammed his foot on the pedal, and the truck shook a bit before zooming forward, well as fast as a pretty old lorry could. Hermione turned and saw the muggle officer stumbled back to the car.

"What exactly is the plan?" said James. "Outrun them in this dilapidated piece of metal?"

"We have tools to help us," said Hermione.

"I thought we said no magic," said James, looking at Hermione in confusion momentarily before directing his eyes back to the road.

"Sure, but now we have to risk some small ones," said Hermione, who then rolled down her window, and leaned out of it.

The lorry didn't handle faster driving smoothly, and Hermione found her wand hand move about recklessly as she attempted to aim. Finally she felt confident enough to attempt a few spells, and sent out a charm to slow objects.

It flew passed the police car and hit a sedan driving behind it, which slowed to a crawl. She shook her head, and while she was thankful the spell would only last a few minutes, this wasn't the time to risk harming innocents with spells that could cause a massive crash or something as damaging as that. Quickly going through her options in her head, she was left with one that could work.

"Don't slow down," she said

"Wha-? Why would I?" said James. "Why d'you open the door? What are you doing? Don't do that?!"

"I'll meet you guys at the destination," said Hermione. "As soon as the muggles can no longer see you, stop and change the appearance of the lorry by any magic necessary. We can't risk them bringing backup."

With that, holding the open door of the lorry, Hermione jumped out of the car and pointed the wand at the ground in front of her, managing to cast a cushioning charm on it. She bounced as she landed.

Not waiting, she stood up and turned to the road. She walked to the middle of the lane, forcing the following police car to slow quickly to a stop a few metres in front of her. Sure that the lorry was now far enough from them that the police would have to direct their attention to her, Hermione did what she could only do.

She ran.

She headed to the side of the road, and jumped over the metal barriers that separated the road from the woods that surrounded the road. She ran, and ran, and ran, her chest began to hurt but she ran some more. She wasn't sure if she was still being followed, but she hoped she was, but not close enough that she had to do anything about it. Hermione Granger was willing to do many things to survive, but she really didn't know if pointing her wand at innocent muggle police officers was one of them.

After awhile, she felt comfortable enough that they couldn't spot her, and apparated out of there.

She appeared in the destination the cargo was supposed to be taken to, and having apparated she was there far earlier than the others driving down, she began to place the necessary protective charms that were going to be done on their arrival. She was not unaware of the beating of her heart as the adrenaline still pumped within her blood.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Alright, listen up," said Amelia Bones. "We're going to move stealthily and that means nobody, absolutely nobody, makes a move until I say so. I don't care if a Death Eater so much as stands two feet from you, you don't make a move as long as you've not been spotted. Got it?"

They nodded their heads.

"Make sure you've got your supplies secured," said Amelia. "We leave in ten minutes."

Ginny made one last check to ensure her bag had all she needed, and had not left anything behind. She saw Terry and Susan talking nearby as they waited, already prepared. The only person, to be honest, who was still packing was her dear older brother.

"Come on, Fred," she said, shaking her head. "You should've been prepared by now."

"Easy for you to say, sis," said Fred, with his back turned and practically throwing contraption after another into his bag. "I have a lot more with me than you do."

"A lot more useless stuff," said Ginny. "Half the things you have has nothing to do with fighting the Dark Lord."

"Hey, the world hasn't stopped since the war began," said Fred. "In here are things I look forward to for after the fighting's over."

"How can you think about that?" said Ginny. "We don't know if we're going to be around then. If we even win."

"How can you not?" said Fred. "Otherwise, what's the point of fighting, innit?"

"Look up there," said Susan suddenly.

Everyone, grabbed their wands and then looked up. They held their wands, however, upon seeing what was coming. They watched in confusion, as an owl glided in the air downwards until it landed on Amerlia Bones' shoulder. She took the small piece of parchment from its leg. The owl, not waiting, took off and flew back in the direction it came.

They watched as Amelia read the letter, her hand gripping it tighter as she quickly scrolled through the short message.

"Change of plans," she said. "Death Eater attack on Dunnborough. We're going to head there. Leave everything that isn't needed, as we'll come back. We must travel light. I'll arrange a Portkey. We leave in two minutes."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dean Thomas never stole a thing in his life. Never nicked a toffee from a bowl full of toffees. So he had to find ways to do odd jobs whenever he was in any town/city to get a bit of cash. You'd think it'd be difficult to just walk about and look for work, but it seemed people were willing to pay for odd jobs done for a day.

The day before, he had helped some movers who needed an extra hand since one of their's didn't show up for a rather large transport of goods. So today he was enjoying the fruits of his labor quite literally as he sat on a bench munching on an apple he had just bought. He didn't like to admit it to himself, but he appreciated the quiet nature of the solitude he was under. Apart from the nervous moments when he was sure there was someone nearby, it helped as the pain of his mother's loss still was fresh.

So you'll understand it was a whiplash turn of events when he saw the dark cloaked individuals walking down a muggle street. He recognised them immediately, and upon realising they weren't looking at him in recognition, not looking at him at all, he hopped off and behind the bench.

He was torn between staying or making a run for it, and was genuinely leaning towards apparating, but his resolve solidified when he saw a shop window explode at the wand waving of one of the cloaked people. He couldn't leave those muggles to these people defenceless.

"Hey," he yelled as he stepped away from the bench. "I said, hey! You, there!"

Now they had spotted him. He stood a fair distance away from them, all of them on the road. The muggles had no idea what they were watching, but having seen the shop damaged, they knew to panic.

The Death Eaters walked towards him, and Dean tried to decide how long he should try to distract the Death Eaters from the muggles before he needed to make a run for it. He'd just have to -

He dove to the right as a green light flashed near him, hitting the spot he was just standing on. They didn't wait to ask questions. He threw a spell at the group, and ran towards an alley.

"What's a wizard doing in a muggle town?" said a loud voice, which was female and sounded pretty wild in pitch to Dean. "Are you a filthy mudblood here to defend your muggles?"

Dean looked around the corner, and then quickly pulled his back as the corner of the wall shattered as a blast hit it. He stuck his wand around the corner and yelled a blasting curse. He couldn't tell what the spell hit, only hearing a loud boom.

He ran down the alley, and turned in the corner to run left. His rapid steps came to a quick stop when he heard the screams of people behind him. He reentered the street, and took a few steps to reach an intersection.

His blood ran cold.

The bodies of a number of muggles were strewn almost carelessly about. Cars were upturned, windows smashed and lampposts knocked down. If you find the speed at which such damage would be achieved, magic is a rather effective tool to cause massive damage very swiftly.

And so for a period of time, all Dean could do was try to keep the Death Eaters occupied by his occasional attacks while trying to make sure he stay far enough from them so as not to be attacked. It was far harder to do than as stated, considering it required constant apparations to deal with multiple enemies that could do the same. He quickly began to feel he was reaching close to do what he could alone, and it was time to leave.

So, with great reluctance, he disapparated out of the town to a small slope nearby, which he could see a small glimpse of the town. He watched, helplessly and in horror, as the smoke trails from the town increased in numbers and a few turned thicker and blacker in colour.

However, the sounds that he heard changed. Soon he heard more bangs and the air shined with lights moving in many directions. Hoping it was what he thought it was, he walked down the slope back towards the town. He didn't apparate as he didn't know which side was where.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Kingsley Shacklebolt was already there with his team when Amelia Bones and hers apparated to the scene.

"Status report?" she asked.

"At least ten muggles dead, uncounted injured, Ma'am," said Kingsley. "The numbers of Death Eaters are growing since we've arrived."

She swore. "You'd think they'd be as cautious as us about keeping the muggles ignorant of us," she said. "Especially considering they'd be more likely on our side if they found out our existence."

"If they didn't decide to try to nuke us both, that is," said Kingsley.

"True," she conceded. "Listen, you've been the muggle Prime Minister's bodyguard before. I need you to meet with him to discuss the matter if we survive this. We may need support."

"Our wizards won't like needing muggle help," said Kingsley.

"They'll like being ruled by the Dark Lord even less, I assure you," she said. "Now, where are the Death Eaters at the moment?"

"They've split into two, at least," said Kingsley, then pointing at a map on a table. "They're here, and here."

"Nice we have a town map," said Amelia. "How'd you get one?"

"Found the town hall on the internet," said Kingsley. "They always have a map."

"From the..." said Amelia.

"Never mind, I'll explain later," said Kingsley. "Shall we split as well?"

"No," she said. "This is an unfamiliar location, which they've had some time getting acquainted with. Let's go get them one at a time, together."

Kingsley nodded, and turned to his team.

Amelia turned to her team.

"This is our first fight, and most likely not our last," she said. "Keep your wits with you, and don't let them separate you."

"Scared, Ginny?" said Fred, looking serious at his sister.

"No," said Ginny. "But I'm not saying I'm looking forward to it."

"Just do what you need to," said Fred. "And don't be a hero."

"Got it," said Ginny, who squeezed her brother's arm.

Over at Kingsley's team, he called out Tonks.

"Plan has changed on Amelia's orders," he said to her.

"Got it, sir," she said.

"I need you to go to the other group, though," said Kingsley. "Keep an eye on them, so when the rest of us head to them you can provide some intel. Under no circumstance are you to engage with them alone."

Tonks nodded, her face already in the middle of transformation. Her short, pink, hair lengthened and slowly changed into a duller black colour, while also becoming curlier by the second. She was unrecognisable soon after

"That's the most normal look I've seen you in," said Kingsley, his low voice barely making the humor audible. "I'm not sure Remus would approve."

"Shut up," she said grinning, slapping him on the arm. "_Sir_."

She turned and walked swiftly away. Kingsley looked at Amelia.

"Lead the way," he said.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Unfortunately for Dean, the Death Eater group he encountered was not the one Kingsley and Amelia's groups attacked first. And while he was dealing with a smaller number of individuals, it didn't feel any much easier considering he was only one person. He tried to stay out of their vision, running into shops and casting spells at them from the inside. Then he'd dart out of the shops from the back door to try to find somewhere else to attack from.

At first he had some success, stunning a couple of them while disarming a couple more. However, they soon gathered together and became more cautious. A few times he was very close to being hit. He didn't understand how there weren't any other wizards battling these Death Eaters as he was sure to have seen them.

As he was walking backwards trying to deflect the spells coming at him, his feet tripped over something and he fell on his back. Before he could get up, a Death Eater stood before him, and without hesitating raised the wand.

Before the wand could come down, the Death Eater was knocked back by a spell that hit the Death Eater's chest.

Dean looked up and behind him to see a young woman running towards him, casting spell after spell to push the Death Eater back. The Death Eater cackled, the voice being female and harsh, and Dean recognised it as the one who yelled earlier.

The witch defending him finally reached him and stood in front of him.

"How pathetic," said the Death Eater, looking at Dean. "Needing someone else to save itty, bitty, you?"

"Hello, Auntie," said the woman. "It's been awhile."

The Death Eater cocked her head, well the mask on the head at least. "Hmmm..." she said. "Oh yes, Nymphadora. You look particularly plain today. How's mummy?"

"Fine," said Tonks. "If you'll excuse me, I'll take this boy with me."

"Sorry, my dear daughter of a mudblood," said the Death Eater. "Neither of you will be going anywhere."

The Death Eater was joined by the rest of her smaller group. Dean got to his feet and raised his wand, while Tonks did the same with hers.

Suddenly a great boom ripped the air while the ground beneath them erupted. Tonks and Dean were flung in one direction, and the Death Eaters in the other.

Moving quickly towards the two were Ginny and Fred. Now there were four of them against the Death Eaters, who numbered no more than ten. Spells were cast quickly and without hesitation, but while Tonks and Dean had support, it wasn't enough to stem the tide of the fight. They did manage to find some cover.

No matter what happened afterwards, Ginny could not recall who cast that spell. That blinding blue spell that whooshed past her. She didn't noticed where it landed at first, concentrating so on her own fighting. But she did notice when she saw from the corner of her eye the falling motion of someone. She turned, risking herself but not caring, as she her eyes fell upon the body of her brother. She couldn't tell if he was unconscious or...

"Fred!" she screamed. "Fred!"

Her next scream was from a pain of a different, more physical side. A burning sensation ripped at her shoulder as she felt something slam into it. She dropped her wand.

Tonks glanced over, and quickly saw what had happened. She looked at Dean for a second, and then directed her attention back to the Death Eaters.

"Try to apparate out," she told Dean.

Dean closed his eyes, and then... nothing. Nothing happened. He tried again.

"I can't," he said.

"Thought so," she said, nodding. "They have a real powerful witch or wizard with them, someone who can cast an anti-apparition spell in the middle of a battle."

"I didn't know you can do that so quickly," said Dean.

"That's why I said powerful," said Tonks.

Ginny wasn't paying attention to the talk, as she leaned over the only thing that occupied her thoughts that moment. Tonks snuck a look over the cover, and then sighed.

"Go!" she said, loudly.

"But-" said Dean.

"Go!" she roared. "Take Ginny. I'll cover for you."

"I'm not leaving you alone," he said.

"Better one alone than the three of us perishing," said Tonk.

"You two go," said Ginny, speaking finally. Her voice was low, but harsh in tone. "I won't leave Fred to those animals."

"This is not an argument," said Tonks, angry. "I'm the most powerful of us and the most likely to hold off any spells from hitting your backs. Run to the outskirts of town, and keep running. Apparate out and do not come back."

"Why?" said Dean.

"You don't know if the Death Eaters are going to win this," said Tonks. "I'll protect Fred. Go, now!"

Dean grabbed Ginny, trying to be gentle on her bleeding shoulder. He picked up her wand from the ground and pulled her. She resisted at first, but relented as he kept pulling hard. They ran as spells whizzed towards them, but for Tonks coming out of cover and blasting as many as she could at the Death Eaters was enough to distract them from the running teenagers.

They continued to run as they made their way through the trees, their breaths gasping and ragged. After a time, still holding Ginny's hand, Dean attempted an apparition. This time the surroundings turned black and the familiar, yet always uncomfortable, feeling of being squeezed through a tiny gap of space gripped them and they were taken away from their location.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.**

**_Note the 'M' rating. I intend to use it. Scenes and language will be mature in nature._**

* * *

**Chapter 5  
Light in Darkness**

The darkness of the night cloaked the trees and grass. The flicker of light of the flames brought a minuscule amount of visibility around it. What could be made out around it was a few individuals seated around it.

"How is young Ronald handling the news?" said an old man.

"As expected, he's taking it hard, Albus," said a man gruffly, one of his eyes swiveling around frequently.

"It's unbelievable he may even have a chance," said a woman. "A few seconds longer and we would have lost him."

The old man sighed. If you were there you would see the weariness upon his body, the frustration of the daily drips of despair of war.

"Molly and Arthur should be coming at any moment," said the woman.

"I expect Remus will be popping by too," said Moody. "Too many of us gathering together. If the Dark Lord decided to attack at this moment..."

"Then let him come," said Dumbledore. "We can't forget those we care about. It's a risk we'll have to take."

"They're not going to be happy with Ginny being missing," said the woman.

"I know, Minerva," said Dumbledore.

"Can't we just owl them to come?" said McGonagall.

"I've already said I don't want to take this risk," said Dumbledore.

"Because of your feeling," said Moody, who appeared sceptical.

"Yes, and spare a thought for young Mr. Thomas, who has been alone since seeing the death of his mother," said Dumbledore.

"You know how much I disapprove of it," said McGonagall. "The poor boy."

"My heart tells me that Dean Thomas has an important role to play," said Dumbledore. "Whether big or small. And that it requires us not seeking him out. As long as Ginny is with him, we can't risk interfering with whatever he may be on the path to doing."

Kingsley walked into view, with a look of confusion on his face.

"I receive word that distresses me," he said, trying to prepare the others for bad news. "Amelia Bones has died. At the hands of Lord Voldemort himself."

McGonagall's face turned white, Moody stood up while cursing, and Dumbledore placed his index fingers together and closed his eyes. The old man sighed deeply.

"How?" asked Moody.

"Her team were making their way out of the town after the battle," said Kingsley. "And made it quite a distance away before he came to them."

"What news about the rest of her team?" asked Dumbledore.

"They are all accounted for, and safe," said Kingsley.

"They were not his target," said McGonagall.

"Perhaps," said Kingsley. "But they report she managed to keep his attention by dueling him so they could get away. They say upon their exits she was still fighting."

"She would've given Voldemort a fight, for sure," said Moody. "But she would fall nonetheless."

"She saved her fellow member's lives at the risk of her own," said Dumbledore. "Upon the face of death, Amelia Bones would not relent in battle."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Remus Lupin was walking as quickly as he could as a number of thoughts raced through his head. He heard that she was still alive, but nothing on her state was written in the letter. As such, he wasn't rude when he made his way through many people without saying as much as a word to any.

Upon entering the tent, he felt his knees weaken as he saw her seated on the bed. She was bruised and had a cast around her left arm, but she was awake.

When she saw his presence, her eyes widened momentarily and brightened as well, before they quickly dulled. She was alone.

"You shouldn't have come," she said. "Your group wasn't supposed to come."

"I asked Albus if I could," said Remus.

"Why?" she asked.

"Why?" he repeated, unsure of such a question.

"Yes, why?" she said. "You can't just walk in here and hope..." Her voice trailed off.

"Hope what?" he said. "I only wanted to know if you're well."

"And I appreciate that," she said. "But you don't get to come here and risk your life by coming alone for my sake. Not if you've rejected me."

"I didn't..." he said, but she interrupted him.

"Whatever your reason was," she said. "you decided we can't be a couple. Then just make sure you're alive and don't risk anything for me specifically."

They were silent for awhile, looking at each other for awhile, neither breaking the gaze. Then he spoke.

"I do love you," he said.

"If you think that's supposed to make me feel better..." she said. "It only hurts more."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

George Weasley was sitting beside the bed when his parents entered the room. His mother hugged him deeply after entering the room, and then directed all her attention to the person on the bed. His father smiled as warmly as he could to him with his other child on the bed.

"Oh, Fred," said Molly.

Molly stroked her son's hair.

"What a waste all this fighting, once again," said Molly, whose voice was so soft it was not clear if she was talking to anyone in particular.

"Now that his loved ones are here," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I shall take my leave."

"Thank you Kingsley," said Molly from the bed.

"You managed to get our son out of there and to medical help in such circumstances," said Arthur. "We are in your debt."

"There is no debt," said Kingsley. "We do this for any in our side. It's why we fight."

He then left the tent, seeing a young male with black hair and glasses sitting outside.

"Mr. Potter," said Kingsley. "You didn't stay long inside."

"Harry, please. I wanted to give my best wishes," said Harry. "But I didn't want to intrude in a family moment."

"I understand," said Kingsley.

Harry was silent, and Kingsley asked what the matter was.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, "but it is difficult considering I do not have family in this world. Or at all. I haven't been here long enough to know what exactly I'm fighting for. I know who I'm fighting for, but not what."

"That, too, I understand," said Kingsley. Upon Harry's skeptical look, he elaborated. "I also was an orphan. I do not know who my parents were nor whether or not they were magical or muggle. All I know is I was raised in the muggle world. I understand your feelings."

"How was it like in Hogwarts?" asked Harry. "If you don't mind me asking."

They were walking towards the campfire that Dumbledore was at, and but there was a distance that allowed such a discussion. Harry couldn't recall ever having much of a conversation with Kingsley and had to admit he didn't know anything about the Auror. Kingsley was silent for awhile, and Harry waited for the man to speak.

"It was lonely," said Kingsley. "They never make the effort to help get the muggleborns to adapt to this new world. They just toss us into the deep end and ask us to swim. I was placed in Slytherin and then expected to handle all this new information. I didn't think of it much at the time, but looking back now, the first years are only eleven years old. It only works somewhat because we're so young, and the youth adapt the quicker than the others."

"I didn't know that," said Harry.

"No worries, Harry," said Kingsley.

They had reached the campfire, and Dumbledore nodded at them.

"It's been a long night," he said. "Please sit."

"We had just left Fred's tent," said Kingsley. "The poor woman."

Harry was confused, and couldn't let it go. "Surely poor all the Weasleys?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I didn't mean to sound so blunt," said Kingsley. "But you'd forgive me for thinking she must be worried if it was last time all over again."

"Last time?" asked Harry, who was only getting more confused.

"Kingsley, you forget Harry wasn't around during the last war," said Dumbledore.

"But-" said Kingsley.

"And I very much doubt his friends would mention it unless it came up," said Dumbledore. "You see, Harry, the first time Voldemort rose up there were three pureblood families in particular that he feared above all."

"Feared?" said Harry. That didn't sound like the Dark Lord.

"Well, fear may be a strong word," said Dumbledore, conceding the point. "Let's say they captured more of his attention, outside probably myself."

"Were the Blacks one of them?" asked Harry. "Or Potters?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "The Blacks were early sympathisers. And the Potters, though very well respected, they were generations of merchants. They became incredibly wealthy through their business dealings, but they weren't much thought about for war."

"The three families," said Moody, who was sitting there. "were the Prewitts, the Longbottoms and the Boneses. Voldemort saw personally to it that these families would be wiped out.

"Molly's only two siblings were Gideon and Fabian Prewitt," said Kingsley.

"They were members of the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore. "And very highly regarded."

"The fiercest fighters I had ever seen," said Moody. "If I told you the battles they had, them two alone, laddie you wouldn't believe a word I said."

"They were right up there for me too," said Dumbledore, "in all my years I've seen only a few with such bravery."

"The Bones and the Longbottoms were no different," said Moody. "Frank and Alice Longbottom actually dueled with Voldemort for half an hour and then managed to escape. Amelia's brother Edgar Bones was killed with his wife and children by Death Eaters, and Amelia's parents were killed by the Dark Lord himself after multiple failures from the other Death Eaters."

"You see, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Those three families were icons within the wizarding world. As long as they fought, the public did not fear defeat, and the Death Eaters feared to stray too far out. But the Dark Lord had them picked off, one by one, while the rest of the wizarding world dallied about in how to deal with his threat. It took the loss of them for the public to truly fathom Voldemort's true threat, but by that time, sadly we had lost our three greatest defences. Voldemort never deliberately targeted random wizards and witches unless it was in a fight, instead trying to rule over them. But he knew early on he could not succeed with these families able to resist him."

"I remember the day the news about Frank and Alice began to trickle to us," said Moody, his voice low. "I confess at that moment I feared we may lose the whole thing."

"So when you say 'poor Molly'..." said Harry.

"Yes," said Kingsley. "Having gone through that once before, she must surely fear the same may be starting with her family."

"Contrary to what the Malfoys would like to believe," said Dumbledore. "What the Weasleys lack in wealth, they have far more in character. They're as pureblood as any Malfoy, yet humbler than any witch or wizard I'd point you to. In times of peace, the public ignores such a family. In times of difficulty, they're the ones that are looked for. Even if the Malfoys didn't join the Dark Lord, they are known to be cowards. When the whole society's existence is at risk, people never look to Ministry officials that sought personal gain rather than societal benefits. They look to the likes of a family that could bring, within one generation, the likes of Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny and especially your friend Ron who has already faced death multiple times with you. Even Percy, who acted in shocking manner before, has turned rather useful since recognising his error."

"Aye, most parents would kill to have even two of them," said Moody. "But seven in one family?"

"That's why I particularly made the order that the family be separated," said Dumbledore. "As you and I have discussed, Voldemort for all his power, can sometimes be predictable. And his eye will be squarely upon the Weasleys. You and I, Harry, are symbols of those who go up against him. But the Weasleys... they're a symbol of the magical world that cannot exist with Voldemort succeeding. They are an ideal."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

They reappeared in a clearing he had been at a few times before. Upon landing, he let go of her hand while gently placing her to the ground. He tended to her shoulder wound, which seemed to only be a cut. Thankfully that was covered in the lessons they had at Hogwarts before the war began, so he managed to slow the bleed down, and then conjure a bandage to wrap around it.

He let her lay down on the grass as he set out to place the defensive shields around him, and then get the tent ready. He laid her down on a bed, and watched for a moment as she slept. He brushed her red hair, and watched her chest rise and fall as she slept, and couldn't miss the tight feeling he felt within his own chest.

He then left the tent, and sat on a stump as he kept watch.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Ron had seen his brother laying unconscious, and spent a few hours by the bedside.

When he left the tent, there was one more person he wished to see before he had to leave. He found his best friend sitting on his own looking at the trees. He silently reached up to Harry, and sat beside him. Harry didn't indicate he noticed his friend's presence, apart from scooting over to allow some space for Ron.

They watched the leaves flutter with the wind's breeze for an indeterminable length of time. Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry about your brother," said Harry, still staring ahead of him.

He could see from the corner of his eye that Ron nodded.

"Have you seen Hermione?" asked Harry.

Ron shook his head.

"Nor have I," said Harry. "I heard she had a run in with the police... muggle law enforcement."

Ron smiled a small bit.

"I can only imagine," said Ron.

They continued to sit for a period of time longer, no words coming to mind despite having not spoken for quite some time. Their second silence was interrupted by a voice behind them.

"Ronald," said a voice. "Your family wishes to speak with you."

They turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing behind him. Ronald got to his feet, nodded at Harry, and then left. Dumbledore sat on the spot where Ron had just vacated.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you, Harry?" he asked.

"Not at all, sir," said Harry. "Is something the matter?"

"Unfortunately it is," said Dumbledore. "It seems that the wounds Fred had suffered were more serious than initially thought."

"Is... is he going to make it?" said Harry.

"His heart is failing," said Dumbledore. "Along with other problems. I thought we were fortunate to manage to get Madam Pomfrey to us quickly, but she is not hopeful."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, speaking very low.

"She's tried everything she could," said Dumbledore, his voice grave, the blue of his eyes dimmed, as he stared at the trees before him.

He turned to Harry and then said, "Fred Weasley will not last the night. His family are gathered around his bed."

Harry looked down, shaking his head. He wasn't aware of the tears in his eyes until he saw them dropped to the ground he was looking at.

"I know you were close with Fred," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps you wish to be there as well."

"I do not wish to intrude," said Harry. "This is a family matter."

"They will certainly not see you as intruding," said Dumbledore.

Harry didn't answer.

"In what direction have your thoughts taken you, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

"I wish..." began Harry, who paused for a moment before speaking again. "I wish I could trade places with Fred."

"Why?" said Dumbledore, his voice remaining steady.

"There's too much death and loss," said Harry. "I have none to mourn me, whereas he has many who will cry through the night. It's not fair."

"Fair?" said Dumbledore. "There's nothing fair about that. Many who've died didn't deserve it, and many who've lived deserve it even less. It's not your place to decide who lives and dies. There would be many who would mourn your absence. I have already told you do not pity those who have died. Pity those who live, and without love."

"Then I wish I never lived in this time," said Harry. "If only I was born ages in the past. Or fifty years after."

"As do I," said Dumbledore sighing deeply. "All of us who live in difficult times wish that they could live amongst peace and tranquility. We don't get to choose."

Harry raised his head, and looked at Dumbledore.

"I would've had so much more if I did," said Harry, his voice soft and unsure.

"We don't get to decide when or where we are," said Dumbledore. "We don't decide if we find ourselves in the midst of darkness or light, Harry. All we can decide is whether in the midst of the darkest night we find ourselves in, whether we can be a light within it. A spark, no matter how small, that pierces the thickest fog of dark to shine within."

* * *

A/N: At the very end I did borrow a similar sentiment from Gandalf in the Fellowship of The Ring.


End file.
